Dragon Age: Horizon
by Journeyman-93
Summary: Set after the end of Dragon Age 2. As the mages rebel and the Templars try to stop them, small happenings become parts of a larger picture, with many fates hanging in the balance. Some seek power, others seek peace. Some seek both, but at what cost? M for violence, language and possible sexual references.
1. Blood

The scream was more audible than the blade that carved through the unfortunate mage's chest.

The Templars were like hounds after the smell of blood. They would not relent or falter until they were successful or dead.

Elissia would have settled for the latter, but they were outnumbered.

"Who fell behind?" She asked a mage boy quietly. He was struggling to keep up; life in the Tower hadn't prepared him for this, whereas Elissia had been an apostate for years.

The boy glanced around. "I think it was Sam."

Elissia felt a surge of anger swell in her guts. Sam had barely hit fourteen, now he would never reach fifteen.

And they were all innocent, mostly. Something had driven the Templars to kill every mage in sight and nobody knew what.

Elissia had been at the right place at the right time, the docks of Lake Calenhad as the first boat of fleeing mages had arrived. Many others had been sunk and drowned in the lake.

She gripped her staff tightly, feeling the reassuring weight of the metal shaft in her hand. It was more like a spear than a staff; one end was a long double edged blade.

"Keep going." She spoke the words quietly. "I'll catch up."

The boy needed no encouragement. He started to run after his fellow mages.

Elissia had no intention of throwing her life away; she just needed to buy the mages some time.

She spun her staff, angling the blade behind her back.

Speed would help her, her armour was light. Apostates were not warriors, but she knew how to fight.

She heard the Templars before she saw them, their bulky plate armour made a distinctive sound.

The first one appeared, backed up by two of his fellows. All three were armed with swords and had shields bearing the symbol of their order. They were armoured from head-to-toe in armour, faces impossible to see.

"Apostate." The lead Templar stated. "Get on your knees and you may be shown mercy."

"You mean you'll make me tranquil." Elissia retorted. "I'd rather die."

"That can be arranged." One of the Templars growled.

"You are familiar." The lead Templar noticed. "But you are no mage of the Circle."

"Leave now," Elissia ordered. "Give up your hunt or die now."

"It is the Maker's will." The Templar braced himself, shield held out for defence. "Kill her."

The two Templars flanking their leader charged first. Maybe they had no experience with mages until today; maybe they were confident that they could overwhelm a single apostate.

Elissia flicked her wrist, sending a blaze of fire roaring towards the Templar on her left. He went down screaming as the fire burned through the gaps in his armour and into his flesh.

The second snarled and swung his sword, aiming for her neck.

Elissia ducked, spun round and drove the bladed end of her staff into his back.

The Templar fell to his knees. Elissia finished him quickly with another stab before turning to the leader.

He was already moving. His first attack was an attempt to bash her with his shield.

She jumped back. Sword and shield both missed.

Elissia swung her staff round, but the Templar blocked her strike with his shield.

A hiss of pain escaped the elf's lips as the sword sliced through her chainmail and bit into the skin of her stomach. But the wound was shallow, a minor inconvenience.

The Templar said nothing, but he could see the blood running over the chain links of her makeshift armour.

They circled each other, waiting for a move or an opening.

Elissia flung a spirit bolt, but he blocked it with his shield and charged.

She was ready, spinning aside and bringing down her blade.

The Templar cried out in pain. His forearm, along with the shield, hit the ground.

Yet despite his arm spurting blood and showing ragged bone, he continued to stand. He was tougher than any Templar Elissia had faced before.

The Templar gritted his teeth and held his sword out, ready for the next attack.

"The Maker watches over the faithful." He grated. "And he rewards his faithful."

"Spare me the rambling, human." Elissia grimaced. "You can't win."

"You think this is a victory, apostate?" The Templar asked. "The faithful need not fear death, and you have already failed. My men will capture the apostates and you will die in this place." He charged towards her, sword pointed at her.

Elissia was too late. She cried out as the sword sliced through mail and flesh, carving through her side.

She fell to the ground, bleeding heavily and unable to defend herself.

"Maker have mercy on your soul." The Templar intoned. He simply left her, walking away into the trees with no hand, binding his bleeding stump with a rag of cloth.

Elissia tried to stand, but fell again. "Finish me!" She cried. "Finish me damn you!"

The Templar ignored her.

She glanced at her wound, feeling sick. There was so much blood. The leaves and earth were turning red.

The Templar was long gone. He had left her to bleed to death.

Elissia tried to stand again, using her staff for support. But she fell again, more blood leaked away.

Out of desperation, she tried to stop the bleeding with her hands. But it just continued.

Elissia was frightened, not of death, but of the pain. Would it hurt?

She could feel very little now. Her vision was starting to fade. Maybe that was a good thing.

She thought that she could hear distant sounds, some sort of thudding.

It didn't matter now.

Elissia closed her eyes and let the darkness take her.

* * *

The Templar continued to walk, shutting out the pain from his arm through sheer willpower and faith. The blood was still dripping from the improvised dressing. He would have to find somebody who could heal the wound.

It didn't bode well for his career. He couldn't hold a shield again.

He heard no cries of pain. That surprised him.

He walked all the way back to Lake Calenhad, to the place where his fellow Templars were camped. He was quickly directed to a man who could deal with his injury, inside the backroom of a tavern.

He had been sitting for ten minutes, managing to stay conscious the whole time, when the visitor came.

"Ser Bannis," the voice shook the Templar out of his thoughts and made him aware of the pain and dull throbbing where his hand had been.

They could have used magical healing, but since the trouble with the mages had begun, Bannis decided to have none of it. He hated the touch of magic.

He was sitting in an inn near Lake Calenhad, called _The Spoiled Princess_, having his wound stitched up and bandaged. The mages were holding out in the Tower.

A large man entered the room, wearing the heavy armour of a Templar and carrying the sword and shield of the order.

"Ser Verin." Bannis nodded curtly.

"I won't bore you." Verin and Bannis knew each other well; they had risen from recruits to knights together. "Without your shield hand, you won't be much use to the order."

"I can still fight," Bannis stated, "if not with a sword, then with my mind."

"I know," Verin sat next to him. "Maker knows that we can't spare you."

"How bad is it?"

"As bad as it looks." Verin admitted. "The mages have the Tower and many of them are on the loose. What happened to your hand? They didn't tell me."

"An apostate cut it off." Bannis answered simply. "She's dead."

"For certain?"

"Lying in a pool of her own blood." Bannis murmured. "She begged for death when I left her."

"Maker's breath, Bannis." Verin sighed. "At least give them clean deaths."

"They don't deserve it." Bannis growled. "We've lost at least a hundred Templars in Kirkwall and many of our own here."

"Still…"

"The Maker judges us all, Verin." Bannis interrupted. "If he dislikes my actions, I will know in time."

"Do you remember?"

"I remember them all, Verin." Bannis said coldly.

"I still remember my first." Verin sighed. "A young lad who failed his Harrowing. One moment he was human, the next…" He shivered. "I struck him down without hesitation."

"You did well." Bannis knocked back some more alcohol to dull the pain. "Mine was that maleficar, the elf boy with a stutter, the one who tried to burn down the library."

"And today?" Verin had done this before. He said that it helped, but Bannis suspected that Verin was checking his sanity.

"Not a tower mage, but she looked familiar." He knocked back more of the drink. "Elf girl, twenty something, blonde hair. I wounded her, fatally. She asked me to finish her, I refused."

"I would have put her out of her misery." Verin muttered.

"She killed two of my men." Bannis said. "Set one of them on fire. I can still hear him screaming."

"The other?"

"Stabbed twice." Bannis shook his head. "We've lost a lot of friends today. Good friends."

Verin sighed and plucked his wineskin from his belt. "To lost friends."

"To lost friends." Bannis agreed.

They both drank. Bannis didn't mention that he regretted what he had done.

But what was done was done, it was over.

Today was anyway, the war would only end when the mages were defeated.

* * *

She hated the Fade.

Nothing was the same. Everything was potentially dangerous.

And all of the floating islands were awful for people who were scared of heights.

Elissia feared both the Fade and heights, but at least heights couldn't possess her and turn her into a monster, an abomination.

Dreaming or dead, it appeared that she was stuck in the Fade now. Elissia guessed that she was dead.

That made her feel sad. It was worse than that, but it was something that Elissia couldn't put into words.

She felt small and vulnerable in the Fade without a mortal body to return to. She was easy prey.

It was unusually cold this time. The island she was on seemed to be wintery, except the snow hung in the air as if frozen in time.

There were odd items around her too. There was a burning book in the air, a wagon half buried in the ground. And the corpse of a mage, one of the mages she had been trying to save, earth and blood clung to his robes.

There was also a hand in the air, still holding a Templar shield, with blood spurting from the end.

"_Stay still."_

The voice seemed to come from somewhere distant. It echoed around the Fade eerily.

"What?" Elissia whispered.

"_What is she murmuring?"_

"_Maker knows, just keep her still."_

Elissia paused, seeing something glistening in the leaves at her feet.

Blood. It was hers.

_Do I even have that much blood? _She wondered. _That's a lot for an elf._

She put her hand to her side, but it came away dry. She could see a gash in the cloth and chainmail and a long scar, but no wound.

Elissia heard the grinding of stone and looked up. She gasped in shock.

The Circle Tower itself was rising in front of her.

What next? Would the Black City fall and squash her?

Knowing her luck, it was possible.

Elissia shivered, her chainmail made a metallic rustling sound, the only sound in the Fade excluding the eerie wind.

"If I'm dead," she murmured. "Just tell me."

"You're not dead, child."

Elissia whirled round. The voice had been close this time, different from the others.

The owner of the voice surprised her. It was an old man, sitting on a rock, with a long white beard and kind eyes. He was wearing simple clothes and had a gnarled wooden walking stick in one hand, a pipe in the other.

"Not yet, anyway." The man added.

"What…" Elissia stopped herself. "Who are you?"

"I'm just an old man." The stranger sucked on his pipe. "A tired old man."

"Are you a spirit?"

"I told you what I am, child." The man replied. "A tried old man."

"Are you a mage then?"

"Just a tired old man."

"Enough of the riddles," Elissia sighed. "Knowing what lives here, I shouldn't even be talking to you."

"You should if you want to leave this place." The man told her. "I can help you, child."

"My name is Elissia."

"Thank you for the name, child." The old man was starting to annoy her, but she held her tongue. She still didn't know what he was. The man slowly stood up, using his stick for support. He was bent over by age, Elissia stood taller than he did.

It reminded her of the joke, a long name for a long elf; she was slightly taller than the average elf. Nobody knew why, it seemed to run in her father's side of the family.

"A walk, I think." The old man was speaking to himself. "Oh, so tiring, but one can never be content with one place."

"Do you live here then?"

"Where else, child?" The man hobbled forwards. "This place is as slow as I am, nobody bothers me here. There are many places to rest my old bones."

"You still haven't told me your name." Elissia stated. "I've told you mine."

"I didn't? Thank you for reminding me." He half smiled. "Call me Thols."

"Can you see these… things?" Elissia pointed at the severed hand. "Why are they here?"

"I can see them." Thols answered. "They are here because you are here. They are… entertainment."

"Entertainment?" Elissia repeated dubiously.

"Yes, entertainment." Thols paused. "Did you not enjoy cutting off that Templar's hand? He was your enemy, was he not?"

"That doesn't mean that I enjoyed it." Elissia retorted. "I don't like to kill people."

"Do you not?" Thols asked. "Didn't it feel right to strike down your attackers? The ones who killed your fellow mages?"

Elissia bit her lip. "You said you could help me."

"Did I?"

"You said you could help me to leave the Fade."

The old man paused again. "Yes, I did. I can help you."

"How?"

"Have some patience, child." Thols shook his head. "I am old and slow, I need to think."

Elissia bit her lip again. "You're playing with me, old man."

"And what if I am?"

"I'm tired of it." Elissia folded her arms. "I could be dead for all I know, but dead or alive I don't want to be stuck in the Fade."

"If you were dead, I would not be talking to you." Thols stated. "The dead are a dreary bunch, no life at all, no potential. No, you are very much alive."

"Fine." Elissia murmured. "Why is _that _here?" She pointed at the Circle Tower. "For my entertainment?"

"Isn't that where you belong, child?" Thols inquired. "You are a mage, are you not?"

"Yes, I am a mage."

"Good."

"Why is it good?" Elissia snapped. "I wouldn't be here now if I wasn't a mage or bleeding to death in the middle of nowhere."

"But the rest of your kin belong there." Thols continued. "The ones who didn't resist anyway."

Elissia paused and unfolded her arms. "How do you so much about me?"

"Please understand, child." Thols requested. "As an old, slow, tired man, I have little to do except listen and watch. I have watched and listened to you for some time now, and to your kin."

"You've seen my family?"

"The ones who survive." Thols answered. "Yes; the sister, the brother and the mother."

"They weren't killed in the rebellion?"

"Killed?" Thols shook his head. "No. But that might have been kinder."

Elissia frowned. "What did you say?"

"I meant no ill will, child. Do be calm."

"I'll be calm when I've left this place." Elissia scowled. "You said you'd help me."

"Oh, very well, if you must be hasty." Thols sighed. "Yes, I will help you."

"Thank you."

"But you must help me first."

Elissia was dubious again. "How?"

"I may be slow, but I grow tired of this place too, the Fade as you call it, I would like to… have a holiday."

"You want to visit one of these islands?" Elissia glanced up, had a minor panic attack, and looked down again.

"No, child. I have seen them or I cannot see them. I am not alone here." Thols answered. "Some of the beings here are a lot less hospitable than I, and crueller than you." He paused. "Besides, I want to visit the mortal realm."

Elissia took a step back, her heart was suddenly beating faster and her stomach was jumping.

"You…" She faltered. "You didn't… you're a…"

"Oh yes, I forgot to mention that." Thols smiled. He dropped the walking stick and the pipe. He had been small and wizened before, now he stood tall and strong. "Yes child, I am a demon."

"A sloth demon." Elissia relised. "You even gave me a clue."

"Yes, my false name was sloth backwards."

"And you want to possess me." Elissia grimaced. "I won't let you take me, not without a fight!"

"Now child," the demon held up a hand. "Don't be hasty. There is no need to make this difficult."

Elissia reached for her staff, only to find empty air in its place. "Uh… you… you wouldn't like me." She bluffed. "I'm young and fast, very impatient. I never do anything slowly. I… I have insomnia." The last part was a lie, the rest wasn't. "I'm scared of heights too."

"I can always alter your mortal form to my liking." The demon stated.

"I diet." Elissia scrambled for more excuses, backing away the whole time. "I'm… allergic to lyrium."

"I doubt that very much." The demon was walking slowly towards her now.

Elissia felt something against her feet. There was a staff behind her, the dead mage's.

Would it work?

She snatched it up anyway; she could at least use it as a cudgel. "Back away!"

"Why?" The Demon chuckled quietly. "Because you have a stick?"

"Don't make me shove it somewhere painful!"

"I won't need such fire." The demon took another step forwards. "Courage is so tiresome."

Elissia swung the staff with all her strength, smashing it into the demon's head.

The staff shattered in her hands at it made contact. The demon didn't even flinch.

Elissia could feel the splinters in the palms of her hands and the blood running down her fingers.

"Do not make this difficult, child." The demon requested. "This will not hurt if you relent."

Elissia stumbled and tripped over the corpse. She recoiled as she felt blood on her hands and clothes.

Something wet hit her hair and face.

Blood from the still bleeding hand of the Templar.

Elissia jumped to her feet and grabbed the shield and the hand with it. With a cry, she held the shield and used the sharp point like a blade.

The demon wasn't ready for her this time. She drove the shield into its chest, sinking it in deep.

The demon looked down at the metal. There was no blood, just a tear in its clothes.

"I applaud your efforts." The demon plucked the shield from its chest and tossed it aside. "But I am growing tired of this little game."

Elissia stared in horror. There was gaping hole in the demon's upper torso, she could see right through it, but it wasn't even hurt.

She only had one weapon left; magic.

Elissia raised her hands and sent a roaring torrent of flame surging towards the demon.

This time she heard a shout of pain and saw the fire burn its clothes and skin.

The wood embedded in her palms also caught alight. She could feel her own skin burning.

She gritted her teeth and did not stop.

The fire seemed to be engulfing her entire body. She could still hear the demon screaming.

She was blinded by fierce light from the flames. The whole world around her seemed to be burning.

It was her turn to scream.


	2. Brewing storm

"You might find this task to your liking." The Knight Captain told him. Again.

"As you say, Ser." Bannis remained polite; the other Templar was a higher rank.

"Ser Verin tells me that you have a keen, tactical mind." The other Templar continued. "With so many mages on the loose, somebody needs to keep track of them and organise our forces."

"Is that my task?"

"Yes."

They were still in the inn by Lake Calenhad, it docks had become a camp for the Templars to watch over the Circle Tower.

"You will be the one to send orders to Templars in the field." The Captain explained. "Tracking down the mages is now your responsibility."

"I won't let you down, Ser." Bannis said. "Or the Maker."

"You have always been loyal, Ser Bannis." The Captain approved. "Oh, and you might need some help. You will need somebody to organise your work and help with… lesser tasks."

The Captain ushered in an elf. Bannis could see the Chantry symbol tattooed on his forehead.

"A tranquil." He murmured.

"Emin will be most helpful." The Knight Captain didn't notice Bannis' discomfort. "I'll let you settle in. Your work begins on the morrow."

Bannis watched him go, waiting until he had left the tavern.

Emin stood in the corner, carrying a stack of papers and watching him with a blank expression.

Bannis was not particularly fond of mages, but at least they had souls.

"I await your orders, Ser Bannis." The tranquil elf droned. How old was he? No more than twenty, surely.

Bannis swallowed his displeasure. "Put those papers over there please."

Emin nodded and did as he was told.

Bannis sat down at his desk and studied the map in front of him.

His life would never be the same. He had gone from a loyal Templar to a desk bound cripple.

He had never imagined that his life would turn out like this.

"My task is done, Ser Bannis." Emin stated in the same monotone that all tranquil spoke with.

"Thank you, Emin." Bannis wanted to be alone to think. "That will be all. Get some rest."

Emin shuffled out of the door. Bannis stayed where he was.

How had it come to this?

A rebellion in distant Kirkwall had led to the world going mad.

How many were dead?

Dellihan, Gerald, Montson, just to name a few. Many mages were dead and the First Enchanter himself was leading the survivors in an uprising.

"_Have you… killed any mages?"_

"_Only ones who fell. And I hope that you don't."_

"_I'll… try not to, Ser Bannis."_

Bannis grimaced and shut out the voices by mentally reciting the Chant of Light.

The distant memory was the last thing he wanted to think about. He was a Templar, one of the Maker's servants, he would remain devout.

Despite everything that had happened, he did feel some sympathy for the apostate who had no doubt bled to death, frightened and alone.

_I am a Templar. _He thought furiously. _I did my duty. I do my duty. That is all that matters now._

* * *

"Sell-sword," the voice snapped him out of his thoughts and away from the stew he was poking. He looked over his shoulder at the woman in the tent. "She's coming around."

He put down the stew, not caring if anybody stole it, and walked into the tent.

The elf he had found and carried to the camp was starting to wake up.

She had been lucky. He knew enough about wounds to stop the bleeding long enough to carry her to this camp, where some fleeing mages had set up.

He didn't really care about their plight, but even he wouldn't leave somebody to bleed to death, alone and far from home.

He watched the elf as she slowly woke up. All things considered, she should have died.

She was pale, with long blonde hair falling past her shoulders. She was unusually tall for an elf, almost his height.

"Try not to move too quickly." The healer advised. "You'll break your stiches."

"Where am I?" The elf asked drowsily.

"Somewhere safe." The healer shrugged. "Don't worry; we're all mages here, except for this mercenary who found you."

"I'm no friend of the Templars." The sell-sword stated.

"Then whose friend are you?" The elf asked.

"No-one's."

She didn't know how to respond to that. "Thank you for saving me. Both of you."

The healer smiled. The mercenary said nothing.

"Are you waiting for something?" The healer asked him.

He could see that these people had nothing. There was no reason to stay.

"No." He shook his head. "I don't need any payment."

"Wait," the apostate called.

Normally, he would have kept walking, but for once he stopped. Something made him listen to that voice.

He turned and regarded the apostate with curiosity. "What is it?"

"You want a reward." It was more of a statement than a question.

"I can see that you have no money." He said. "I won't take anything from you."

"You're right, I have no money." She said. "But I can offer you my aid."

"Your aid?"

"My staff, my spells, my aid." She explained. "It seems only fair."

The mercenary considered, his face was hard to read but there was a slight change to his expression.

"Once you can walk." He accepted. "I don't want to be slowed down. I didn't catch your name."

"Elissia."

"Aron."

The elf examined him in turn, taking in the short hair, the battered leather and scale armour, the grip of the longsword over his shoulder and the two scars on his right cheek.

He looked like a veteran mercenary, which was exactly what he was.

"Just one thing," Aron stated. "I know you're a mage. Don't show off any spells in public, not unless you want to get us both killed."

Elissia bit her lip. "I'm not that stupid."

"Good." Aron turned and walked away from the tent. "Right now the world is full of idiots."

* * *

"The information you requested has arrived." Emin droned.

Bannis had almost fallen asleep. In truth, he had sent the tranquil to chase documents because he felt uncomfortable with him in the room. The monotonous voice, empty eyes and placid smile unnerved him. The tranquil lived and breathed like anything else, but otherwise they were like the walking dead, only without the rotting flesh.

"Thank you, Emin." Bannis yawned. "That will be all."

Emin nodded and left the room again.

Bannis sat and glowered at the papers on his desk. He had tried to find some twice with his left hand, only to realise that it was gone.

He hated being stuck here. He wanted to be with his fellow Templars, fighting alongside them.

He felt useless in this inn, reading endless papers and thinking of tactics.

Again, he felt a surge of hatred as he thought of the apostate who had put him here.

Yet he also felt a little pity for her too.

* * *

"Enough!" Verin yelled.

The two recruits stopped their practice and lowered their weapons.

"I've seen tavern wenches fight better than you." Verin strode into the makeshift arena, sizing up both of the new Templars. They were green as grass and had yet to take their vows.

But these were desperate times, they needed as many swords and arms willing to hold them as they could get.

"You, what's your name?" He asked one of them.

"Lee Pendle, Ser." The man answered.

"And you?" He asked the second.

"Jac Callsom."

"Do either of you, dare I ask, have any experience with swords?"

"No, Ser." Pendle answered.

"I used to cut wood at the mill, Ser." Callsom said.

Verin sighed and took the blade from his hand. He held it up in the air.

"This is not an _axe_." He declared. "Logs don't bleed. Mages do. You do not swing it about like an _axe_. If you do, your enemy will simply move and kill you." He swung the blade round, bringing it close to Callsom's neck. "A longsword is meant to be fast, swift and deadly. It is made for stabbing and slashing, not hacking. If you want an axe, go and get one and join the army. Or the Chasind, or run back to your damn mill." He spat. "We are Templars. The sword is our symbol for a reason, it is our weapon. Start using it like a sword, or die." He stepped back to the edge. "Again."

The two recruits started fighting again. Verin sighed and dreaded the limits of his own patience. It would be shields next, they were barely holding them.

Then he'd have to teach them which end of a helmet to see out of.

_Maker's breath_. He brooded. _I wish that Bannis hadn't lost his hand._

He didn't just lament that the fact that his friend was stuck behind a desk, Bannis had been one of the best swordsmen in the Fereldan Templars. He could have got the useless recruits into shape.

He'd killed many apostates, two blood mages and even a rage demon that had possessed a mage. But he would never fight again.

"Stop," Verin called, unable to suppress the dissatisfaction in his voice. "You're given shields for a reason. Try using the bloody things!"

* * *

It wasn't a long walk from where the mages and their sympathisers had camped to Redcliffe.

Aron needed news, and some arrows.

He travelled alone into the town; he didn't want to be caught as a friend of fleeing mages, even though he was hardly a friend.

He just had a soft spot for the underdogs, the people trying to get by. He was one too.

He spent a few minutes listening to the town criers and any gossip he could overhear.

It was all about the rebellions. Apparently, Irving wanted to negotiate and call for a ceasefire. The Templars wanted to leave the Chantry and hunt mages. Several Circles had already rebelled.

War was coming.

Aron didn't really care for either side, the Templars and the mages could kill each other and most people would happily let them get on with it, it was a conflict that had been going on for years, only this time blood was being shed on a bigger scale.

They also said that Knight Commander Meredith of Kirkwall had gone mad, and that the Champion called Hawke had killed her.

They were right. He owed this Hawke a drink, assuming that the Champion had survived.

The Templars arrived a few minutes later. A lot of them too.

Aron heard rather than saw them, they rarely understood subtlety.

"In the name of the Maker and the Templar order, surrender any mages who are hiding here." The leader bellowed. "Now!"

No subtlety at all.

The civilians had gone quiet; they had almost frozen in place, terrified of the Templars who had just entered the town.

Word must have reached the castle; a man wearing finery came down to the meet the Templars, he was accompanied by some Redcliffe guards.

"I am Bann Teagan." He introduced himself to the Templar. "And you are?"

"Ser Clemen of the Fereldan Templars." The Templar didn't bother to remove his helm. "We are hunting renegade mages who may have fled here."

"The guards haven't seen any."

"They don't know what they're looking for."

Teagan seemed to take some offence at the comment, Aron saw him frown, but he kept his retort to himself.

"Over here, Ser Templar!" A man shouted. On cue, some burly men dragged three people out into the open. One was a teenage boy, the second was a young woman and the third was a man in his late thirties. "These are mages."

"No we're not!" The boy protested.

The man slapped him. The sound was amplified by the silence around them. "Silence, boy!"

"How do you know they're mages?" Ser Clemen asked.

"They've only just turned up, ahead of your Templars." The excuse was poor. "And I've seen them use magic."

"Liar!" The woman cried. She got a slap for her words too.

Aron could tell that the three men were lying, that they had seen no magic being used.

But it wasn't really his place to protest, the Templars would just cut him down too.

"We live in dangerous times." Ser Clemen drew his sword. "It is better not to take any chances."

The sword came down before Aron could even blink.

The older man hit the ground, blood spurting from his neck. His head rolled towards some villagers, who backed away in horror.

No trial, not even a chance to defend himself. Aron didn't like it, but he was still outnumbered.

"Bring that one forward." Ser Clemen pointed at the woman.

"Please!" The woman had started to cry. "I have children, I'm not a mage!"

"Cut her head off!" Somebody jeered. "Kill the mage!"

Ser Clemen lifted his sword.

"Stop this!"

Clemen looked up Teagan, with the sword still over his head. "The Maker is my master, not you."

"What kind of master asks for this kind of butchery?"

"This is not butchery." Clemen stated. "It's justice."

"The two don't go together, Ser Butcher."

Now Clemen glanced at the scarred man wearing battered armour walking towards him.

"Stay out of this." Clemen growled. "Or I'll have your head too."

"Please help us!" The boy begged. He got another whack for speaking.

"You won't even give them a trial." Aron stated. "Mages or not, you can't just put them to the sword like this."

"You have no idea how many they killed in Kirkwall."

Aron chuckled, but there was no humour in the sound. "I was there, Ser Clemen." He said. "I was there when Lowtown burned, I was there when the Chantry was destroyed, I was there when mage and Templar alike made the streets run red with blood."

"Then you know that this must be done."

"No, not this." Aron whipped out his sword and held it to the throat of the Templar. "_This _is what must be done."

The other Templars were reaching for their weapons. The Redcliffe guards were drawing theirs.

"Let them go and I won't give you the same treatment that you gave the old man." Aron growled.

"What about _my _trial, brigand?"

"Brigand," Aron half smiled. "I've been called worse. And you've been found guilty of murder, with plenty of witnesses. And my sword is sharp enough for your armour."

He wasn't lying. Clemen could see the sun glinting off the razor sharp edge of the red steel blade. Aron kept it sharp, until it could nick skin with the lightest and briefest of touches.

Neither man moved. Clemen could also see that Aron wasn't bluffing.

"Bann Teagan," Aron didn't look away from the Templar. "Get them out of here."

Teagan took the two victims and led them out of harm's reach.

"You will pay for this, mage lover." Somebody snarled.

"I don't care about mages or Templars." Aron stated. "You're all mad. I don't believe in some god who turned his back on the world, I don't care about some pathetic squabble between mages and Templars. You're wrong and you're doing wrong."

"Heretic." Clemen growled.

"Call me what you want." Aron hissed. "But I believe in certainties, and I know that this blade will sever your throat unless you walk away right now."

Clemen considered arguing, but he still didn't want to take his chances. For all his talk about the Maker and justice, he was still afraid of dying.

"Men, sheath your swords." He ordered. "We're leaving this dump."

Aron only lowered his sword when Clemen had turned his back and was walking away.

"And don't think about coming back." He added. He would be gone soon, but the people of Redcliffe would not be hospitable to Templars after today.

"Thank you for intervening," Aron was surprised to receive praise from the Bann.

"It's unusual for me too." Aron shrugged.

"If they had killed the others," Teagan shivered. "The villagers might have fought back; it would have been a bloodbath."

Aron glanced at the body of the dead man. "Blood has already been shed."

"You've helped this village, my friend." Teagan said. "Will you accept a reward?"

"I won't say no to coin." Aron shrugged. "It keeps me fed."

"You did this for more than just money."

"Maybe you're right." Aron admitted. "I guess I did it for a friend."

* * *

Elissia found herself examining the bandage again. It was the only thing keeping her in the apostate camp.

She had no skills as a healer; her expertise was mostly with fire. She had been trying to learn healing spells from the healer, but it was difficult for her and the healer had other things to do.

Elissia sighed and left the bandage alone. If the stiches came loose she'd probably bleed to death. She didn't intend to repeat her near death experience, not like that.

Aron had been gone for half an hour at least. That left Elissia to fret.

She still didn't know where his loyalties lay. He seemed to be the type who looked after himself, but looking after number one could include telling the Templars where fleeing mages were if it kept him alive.

But he returned without Templars at his heels.

"We might have a problem." He told her.

"Templars?" Elissia guessed.

"Got it in one." Aron raised an eyebrow. "I think I might have pissed off a certain Ser Clemen."

"Him?" Elissia stared at Aron. "That arsehole?"

"You know Ser Arsehole?" Aron raised the other eyebrow.

"Unfortunately." Elissia muttered darkly. "I used to live in the Denerim Alienage, with my family, until he came along, took my family away and killed my father."

"What about you?"

"I ran away." Elissia sighed. "I escaped the Templars on the road, ran into the woods and didn't look back."

"Right." Aron nodded. "I suppose you want to kill this man."

Elissia shook her head. "That would be stupid." She murmured. "He'd kill me first. But…"

"But what?" Aron noticed the pause.

"Maybe he knows where my family is."

* * *

_**In this story, I will try to get my facts right and keep the identities of the Warden and the Champion vague, it's up to you to decide who they were.**_


	3. Cultural divides

"Are you sure you're up for this?" Aron asked again.

"He didn't break my legs, Aron." Elissia sighed. "I can walk."

Aron shrugged and went back to the map he was studying. The apostates were leaving, taking their stuff with them.

Templars had been sighted on the roads, possibly Ser Clemen's. Or "Ser Arsehole" as Aron had started to call him.

"What brought you back to Fereldan?" Elissia asked.

"How did you know I left?"

"You have the accent," Elissia said. "But most of your equipment, except for the sword and bow, are from somewhere else. Nevarra?"

"Not quite." Aron folded the map up and stowed it in his pack. "The Free Marches actually, to be specific; Kirkwall."

"Kirkwall," Elissia murmured. "That's where the trouble started."

"There's always been trouble between mages and Templars." Aron stated. "Kirkwall is where the rebellion began."

"Were you there when it happened?"

"I was." Aron answered. "That's why I left."

"It's not brilliant here either."

"I didn't come back to be safe." Aron checked one of his knives. "I came back to find someone."

"Who?"

Aron glanced at her, half smiling. "You're very inquisitive."

"Touchy subject?"

"Not really." Aron shrugged the pack on. "I'd rather not talk about it. Things might have changed."

Elissia folded her arms. "You're talking about a girl, aren't you?"

Aron sighed. "You're sharp, I'll give you that." He said. "Like I said, things might have changed."

* * *

"Bannis, without your help this bunch is going to be a lot smaller after their first fight." Verin explained as he led Bannis into the camp. "They barely know which end of the sword to hold."

"I've only got one hand, Verin." Bannis reminded him. "I can't exactly fight."

"You were a great swordsman." Verin said. "In fact, you still are. I just need you to drum some sense into these idiots. You know, one of them was swinging it about like an axe."

"You've told me."

"It's still incredible."

"Fine." Bannis submitted, in truth he was happy to leave his desk and swing a weapon again, even if it only was to train recruits. "But you have to teach them about the shields."

"That's fair."

Two recruits were already practicing when the two veterans arrived.

"Now you see why I need your help." Verin muttered. "Recruits, listen up! In the vain hope that I can make proper swordsmen out of you lot, I've brought Ser Bannis along to teach you which end to stab people with." He told them. "Respect this man; he has proven his worth and the strength of his sword arm."

Bannis was aware of a few glances at the stump. All that remained of his hand.

Verin handed him a sword and Bannis began to tell them what he knew and demonstrated a few moves as best he could.

Holding a sword and swinging it felt good, even if he was just training recruits, but he was still aware of his injury. He was wounded for life, all because of one apostate.

The more he thought about her, the angrier he felt. And he remembered more than her.

"The day a one handed man teaches me to wield a sword is the day the Griffons return."

Bannis heard the murmured comment even over the sound of swords striking.

"You," he pointed at the man who had said it. "What's your name?"

"Callsom." The Templar dropped the _Ser_.

"How would you like to _fight _the one armed man?" Bannis challenged. "The one who might teach you something vital, something that might save your life. You might end up learning the hard way."

Callsom held his sword out. "You want to duel?" He smirked. "Fine, let's do it."

"Bannis…" Verin began. But Bannis ignored him and walked into the ring, sword held out. He'd have to compensate for the lost hand, but he could still fight, he'd prove it.

Callsom moved first, charging in recklessly. Bannis parried his clumsy with ease, despite holding his sword with just one hand.

He pressed the attack, swinging and stabbing. Callsom was suddenly on the defensive, unable to parry or dodge every blow.

Callsom tried to attack, swinging left. Bannis met the blade and used the hilt to wrench Callom's blade out of his hand, leaving the recruit with just his shield.

Callsom had the look of a frightened boy as he brought the shield up to defend himself.

Bannis hit the shield twice, until he heard a desperate cry of: "I yield!"

Callsom was cowering beneath his shield. Bannis could suddenly see how pathetic he was, just a whimpering boy trying to play at being a Templar.

If he was no match for the injured Bannis, then he would be no match for an apostate or a demon.

"Get up," Bannis hissed, voice full of contempt. For a moment, his vision had clouded and he had been attacking someone else.

The elven apostate, the one who had put in him this misery, the one he had left to bleed to death. He still felt a little pity for her, but he was starting to think that Verin had been right.

He should have killed her on the spot. It might have been more satisfying. At least it would have been final.

"You will not become a Templar, Callsom." He stated. "You are weak and stupid. The first apostate you face will be your last."

He let those words sink in before walking back to Verin. His fellow Templar looked a little shocked.

"You nearly killed the boy." Verin murmured.

"I might have saved somebody the trouble." Bannis muttered. "What is the world coming to?"

Verin glanced at him. "A bloody mess."

"Callsom will not live for very long," Bannis stated. "Not if he becomes a Templar."

"We need as many people as we can get." Verin sighed. "We'll just have to do what we can."

_Not much in my case_. Bannis thought darkly. "I'll be at my desk if you need me."

* * *

Elissia felt wary as they walked through the trees, down a worn path of earth and grass.

She saw Aron kneel down again and examine something in the dirt. He reminded her of a hunter; he seemed to be looking for tracks.

He stood up again and they kept on walking, rarely talking. They had very little to say. Elissia had tried to strike up a conversation, but Aron had pointed out that there were bandits and worse in the trees. So Elissia followed him in silence and he walked in silence.

He knelt again, examining a small mark in the path.

"That doesn't look like a boot." Elissia said quietly.

"It's not." Aron confirmed. There was a slight change in his voice. "Aravels have been down this road."

"Aravels?"

"The Dalish use them." Aron told her. "I'm surprised you don't know about them."

"Just because I'm an elf?" Elissia shook her head. "I've seen Dalish before, but I've never met any."

"You might get along with some of them." Aron stood up. "They don't mind magic." He brushed the dirt off his fingers. "I was on good terms with a Dalish clan once."

"Did you say _was_?" Elissia noticed the choice of words.

"It's a long story." Aron shrugged. "And I always appear as the wrongdoer."

"Were you?"

"No." Aron sighed. "I was just… misunderstood. I don't think there was a wrongdoer." Something moved in the foliage, a squirrel or something small.

"We should keep moving." Aron murmured.

"What if the Dalish see us?" Elissia asked.

"If they're here," Aron sounded slightly excited, yet wary too. "They'll already know we're here."

Elissia kept glancing at the trees, but saw no movement or elves. The only time she saw something was when a hedgehog scuttled across the path and hid in the bushes.

She hoped it was just scared of Aron. She didn't want to meet any bandits.

Aron held up his hand, a signal to stop. "Wait."

"What for?" Elissia whispered.

"We're being watched." He murmured. "They've found us."

"Who?"

As if in answer, three figures emerged from the trees. They were wearing some kind of leather armour and were armed with elegant bows made from ironwood. They all had tattoos.

"The Dalish." Aron whispered. "Don't do anything stupid and they won't hurt us."

"Hold, _shemlen_." One of the hunters ordered with a thick accent. "You have no business here."

"_Aneth ara." _Elissia was surprised to hear Aron speak elvish. "We're just passing through."

One of the Dalish frowned at him fiercely. _"You." _He hissed. "We told you to leave."

"I did." Aron stated. "I came back."

"What for?" The elf demanded. "So that you can rape my daughter again?"

"I didn't rape her." Aron countered. "I know you won't believe me, but it was _love_."

"I should kill you right here!" He raised his bow and aimed it at Aron's heart.

Elissia stepped up to Aron's side, her staff in her hand. "Drop it!"

"No," Aron stopped her. "Don't."

"Who's this?" The elf growled. "Another one you've seduced?"

"He's not my boyfriend." Elissia frowned. "He's not my type. No offence, Aron."

"None taken." Aron shrugged. "Cerion, I came back to see Meliri again. I promised her that I would."

"It's been two years."

"The circumstances weren't kind."

Cerion grimaced and lowered his bow. "I'm only sparing you because Meliri begged me not to kill you." He snarled. "But if you try _anything_, I will kill you and leave you for the wolves."

The Dalish turned and began to walk back to their camp. Aron waited for a moment before following them.

"Charming people." Elissia remarked quietly.

"His clan has never liked outsiders, they hate humans even more." Aron told her. "His daughter was… different."

"He said that you raped her."

"Oh for…" Aron sounded exasperated. "Yes, I did sleep with her. But we were in love, Elissia. I asked for her consent, I asked her if she was certain and she said _yes_."

Elissia could see that she had offended him, even though she hadn't meant to. "Tell me what happened." She requested. "From your perspective."

Aron sighed. "Well… it might take some time."

"It looks their camp is still a long way away." Elissia said. "I can walk and listen."

Aron glanced at the Dalish hunters, who were out of earshot. "All right." He relented. "It was two years ago…"

* * *

_Two years ago_

There was a spray of crimson as the throat of the bandit opened and sent his blood gushing out. It splattered across Aron's armour. The red steel blade matched the colour.

The bandit dropped, sent down by a shove from Aron.

The second one charged, yelling as he ran, and raised his axe for the killing blow.

Aron sidestepped around him and stabbed him in the back.

He turned to face the last one.

Aron heard the crossbow fire, heard the bolt whistle. He felt it hit him in the stomach.

He grimaced and tried to run towards the bandit, who was reloading his crossbow.

They always took too long to reload.

Aron thrust his sword through the bandit's chest. But in the clutches of death, the bandit squeezed the trigger. The bolt hit Aron in the leg.

Aron withdrew his sword and tried to move, but his leg gave way under him and he fell heavily.

The last bandit, their leader, smiled and stepped forwards. He was taking his time, examining the spikes of his mace.

Aron tried to stand, but failed. He was helpless. He tried to bring up his sword, but the bandit kicked it out of his hands.

"At least I don't have to pay those idiots." The leader smirked. "But I'll take your shiny things for myself."

He lifted the mace. Aron waited for it to fall.

What happened next was so fast that it seemed to be instantaneous.

The bandit was preparing to bring the mace down and crush Aron's skull.

Aron must have blinked, because the next thing he saw was the bandit standing, mouth open and staring.

There was an arrow in his right eye, blood dripping off the wooden shaft.

The bandit toppled like a falling tree.

Aron couldn't quite process what had happened. He'd been about to die, now his enemy was dead, by an arrow that had come out of nowhere like some kind of divine retribution.

No, not divine. Aron didn't believe in the Maker.

He heard soft steps approaching; he had to listen carefully to hear them.

He tried to pull the bolt out of his leg. For all he knew his rescuer might be coming to put an arrow in his head.

"Don't." It was a woman's voice, soft with some sort of accent. "You'll make it worse."

A hand clutched his arm and pulled him onto his feet. His leg gave way again.

"Lean on me." The woman instructed. "I'll help you."

Aron did as he was told. He realised that his rescuer was shorter than he was, but quite strong.

He couldn't see much of her face, except for a large blue eye and some sort of tattoo.

Vallasin, something the Dalish wore. He had been saved by a Dalish hunter.

"Who are you?" He asked, his voice came out slowly and he felt weak.

"Try not to talk." She told him. "Save your strength."

Aron's eyelids felt heavy, he could feel blood running down his leg and stomach.

"Stay with me." The Dalish woke him up again. "I'll help you, I promise."

Five minutes, maybe more, must have passed before they arrived. Aron realised that he was being stared at by Dalish elves. Some of them were reaching for their weapons.

His rescuer said something in elvish and two of them put their weapons away and hurried over to help her.

From then onwards, he passed in and out of consciousness.

He woke once to hear voices around him and saw the bolt being drawn from his stomach. Weirdly, he felt no pain. There was a numb feeling, like he had been anaesthetised.

The next time he woke, he felt much better and less tired. There were bandages around his stomach and leg. He was in some sort of wooden structure, which he guessed was an aravel.

He tried to sit up, but his side and leg felt like they were on fire and he stopped.

"Easy," he recognised the voice. "Don't move too much."

The Dalish hunter who had saved him was sitting next to him and he was able to see her face. She had thin lines of vallasin across her cheeks, forehead and chin. Her brown hair was tied back with a simple band. She was watching him with large blue eyes and was wearing leather armour. Aron could see an elegant recurve bow made of ironwood propped against the wall, with wild animals carved into the wood.

"Who are you?" Aron wanted to know where he was, but he still didn't know the elf's name.

"Meliri." She answered. "I'm a hunter for my clan."

"Aron," he introduced himself. "A sell-sword from Amaranthine. How long have I been here?"

"Four days." Meliri told him. "You're recovering, but you must rest."

"For how long?"

"I'm not sure." Meliri shrugged. "A week or two."

There was the sound of footsteps on wood and a Dalish hunter entered. Aron noticed that he had the same colour eyes as Meliri.

"Meliri, we have been asked to hunt." He announced.

"I'm ready, Father." Meliri stood up and picked up her bow. "You'll be looked after until you can walk again." Meliri assured Aron before heading for the door.

"Meliri," Aron called, making her pause. "Thank you."

"For what?"

"For saving my life."

Meliri half smiled. "I wouldn't leave anybody to die, even a human."

She stepped outside and closed the door behind her.

Until she returned, he was left alone. He could hear the Dalish going about their business outside, but they spoke elvish, which he didn't understand.

They weren't worried about him, not about him trying to kill them anyway. He was in no fit state to go anywhere.

He would have preferred to have been treated by his own people. He was grateful to the Dalish, to Meliri, but he knew that he was unwelcome.

He lay back and tried to sleep, passing in and out of half dreams until he was awoken by Meliri's soft footsteps and the smell of food.

She was offering him a spoonful of something hot that smelled of meat. Aron tried to keep some dignity by sitting up and trying to take the bowl, but it was difficult. He had no choice but to resign himself to letting her feed him.

She was gentle though and didn't mock or laugh at him. She just seemed to understand.

She was feeding him something with a gamey flavour, with some sort of herb added.

"It's pheasant." She told him. "I saved some for you."

Aron suddenly realised what she had done. The clan saw him as an inconvenience, another mouth to feed. And he was human, they were not friends. They were only looking after him because Meliri had asked them to.

He knew that not all Dalish were like this. The clan he was in must have been hostile towards his kind. Maybe they thought he was a bandit or thief.

And Meliri had decided to go hungry and give him her food.

"It's your food." He said. "You caught the bird, you earned it."

"You need to eat." She insisted. "I'll be fine. You've only had water these past few days, I've eaten well. My people might not like having you here, but as long as you remain you are my guest, it is my duty to look after you."

Aron couldn't find the will to argue with her. He knew she was right. He considered himself lucky; one Dalish had decided to help him.

"You're very kind, Meliri." He said aloud.

She paused. Aron noticed a little flush of red on her cheeks. She managed a shy smile. "Thank you." She was actually surprised. "My father thinks that your kind is cruel, but he has let anger cloud his judgement. Those bandits you fought killed two of our hunters, the least I could do was save you."

"I was paid to kill them."

"You still helped us." Meliri insisted. "They were looking for me. They wanted to kill me."

"Why?" Aron glanced at her and failed to see why anybody would want to hurt her.

"Because…" She faltered. "I've killed many beasts, for food and for safety. But the day one of them came for me when I was hunting… that was I first time I killed a person."

"Do you feel bad about it?"

"Yes." Meliri said. "My father tells me I shouldn't. But I still do."

"You'll get used to it." Aron assured her. "I've killed before. I still do."

"And you don't feel remorse?"

Aron considered. "Sometimes I wonder about them, the people I've killed. I wonder whether they were good people once, whether they have families, a home." He admitted. "Yes. I do feel remorse."

Meliri absorbed this in silence. She nodded slowly. "_Ma serannas_, Aron." She noticed the slight frown. "It means _thank you_."

"I see." He murmured. "It's a shame. I know very little about your kind."

"Few humans try to understand us."

"I'm not going anywhere fast."

Meliri smiled warmly. "Maybe I can teach you then."

Aron didn't see any harm in letting her. "I'd like that."

The week began to follow a pattern of sorts. Meliri would kept Aron feed and check his wounds. She would leave and hunt for a few hours and then she would return, eat with him and share knowledge with him. He told her what she wanted to know about his kind too, she accepted this as a fair trade.

They gradually began to learn more about each other as they spoke. Aron learnt that Meliri had been raised by her father after bandits had killed her mother, which was why her father disliked humans. She was a talented archer and one of the best hunters in the clan.

Aron told her about himself too, noticing that she enjoyed listening to him.

She did ask one question, one that he remembered quite well.

"There is something I don't understand about humans." She said as she restrung her bow. "You talk about something called Andraste a lot. What does it mean?"

"Andraste is a name." Aron explain. "She was the Maker's bride and prophet, or so the Chantry says. She went to war with the Tevinter Imperium and tried to free the elves. But she was betrayed by her general and was sentence to burn to death." He paused, thinking that he was boring her. But she was listening with interest. "Archon Hessarian took mercy on her and killed her with his sword. And now we have the Chant of Light and the Andrastian Chantry."

"You sound doubtful." Meliri noticed.

"I don't really believe in the Maker." He told her. "In my line of work, I find it hard to accept faith. They say the Maker turned His back on mankind anyway."

"Our gods were tricked," Meliri said. "They were trapped in their realms, leaving the trickster behind."

"Do you believe in your gods?"

"They're a part of who we are." Meliri said. "There's so little of our culture left that we have to hold onto what little we have left. But yes, I believe in them."

Aron tested his leg. It felt stiff, but there was no pain when he tried to move.

"You can move your leg." Meliri noticed, sounding delighted. "You might be able to walk."

"It's worth a try." Aron was eager to get up and walk around. He might even be able to walk home, wherever that was.

He did walk, with a slight limp. He was still slow, but he could walk to the nearest settlement and the Dalish would be happy to see him leave.

Not all of them though.

Aron noticed a slight look of disappointment on Meliri's face. She wanted him to recover, but she didn't want him to leave.

Aron stumbled, partially on purpose, his leg was still weak. He sat down again.

"No, it's no good for travelling." He said. "At least I don't have to stay in the aravel."

Meliri looked a little hurt.

"It's nice and you've taken good care of me." He assured her. "But I could do with some fresh air."

She smiled. "That sounds like a good idea."

"Well, at least I won't have to leave just yet." He smiled. "I'd miss you."

He'd said it in a friendly, jokey way. But in reality he was becoming attached to Meliri.

"Me too." Meliri said. "Take my hand. We can have a walk around the camp."

Aron accepted her hand. "I'd like that."

* * *

_**Rather than put in a huge amount of dialogue, I decided to treat Aron's story like a flashback.**_


	4. The exile returns

Aron ignored the stares and glares from the Dalish as Meliri helped him to walk. He was glad to be out in the fresh air, out in the sunlight rather than cooped up in the aravel.

Some of the elves gestured at him and spoke in their own tongue. Others gave Meliri questioning looks, as if by helping him she had abandoned her sanity.

But she gave Aron a warm smile, and seemed to defend him from the other Dalish, although Aron couldn't understand what they were saying. He'd only learnt a little elvish from Meliri, he could only guess at words.

He saw Meliri's father, Cerion, stride over to them. One hand was resting on the handle of his knife.

"So, he can walk." Cerion stated.

"With help." Meliri confirmed. "We thought some fresh air might be good."

"He can have plenty of that on the road."

Meliri frowned. "Father, he's not ready." She argued. "He can't run, or fight. He'll die without help."

"He's an inconvenience."

"Because he's human?" Meliri sounded angry now. "He's our guest."

"I can see the influence he has over you," Cerion grimaced. "All the more reason for him to leave _now_."

"I'm standing right here." Aron pointed out.

"I wasn't talking to _you_." Cerion didn't even glance at him. "Take him to the path and let him go." He began to walk away.

"No." Meliri's voice was suddenly hard, full of certainty.

Cerion was taken aback. "What did you say?"

"I said _no_." Meliri answered firmly. "Sending Aron away now would be a death sentence."

"Are you questioning me?" Cerion snarled. "Are you forgetting what his kind did to your mother?"

"I never forget it, Father." Meliri retorted. "I was _there_! Aron didn't kill Mother and he won't hurt us."

"You should listen to your daughter." An older, wiser voice said. Aron had seen the elf before, when he had been wounded. This elf was wearing green robes, woven with silver patterns like a tree. There was a staff in his hand, gnarled like an old root.

"Keeper," Cerion bowed his head. "My daughter does not understand."

"Your daughter is young. She has a young heart, and her young heart is caring." The Keeper said. "It is in her nature to be caring, just like your wife."

"She is dead, Keeper." Cerion muttered. "I will not let this human harm my daughter, I won't let him hurt her like his kind did to my wife."

"And do you intend to harm Meliri, Aron?" The Keeper looked deep into Aron's eyes, as if he could read his soul.

"No." Aron answered. "I don't. I owe her and your clan my life."

"You speak honestly." The Keeper stated. "A rarity among many humans." He turned back to Cerion. "Meliri is correct, Cerion. Aron will not survive outside of this camp; he must remain and gather his strength."

"Humans are not our friends."

"Not all of them." The Keeper said. "But the whole of humanity is a forest in which a single tree may be different."

"But…"

"And are we any better than the ones who killed your wife if we throw an innocent human to his death?" The Keeper challenged. "We cannot wrong those who have not wronged us."

Cerion knew that he had lost the argument. "It would be wiser to get rid of him _before _he wrongs us." He stalked off, humiliated and angry.

"_Ma serannas_, both of you." Aron said.

"You are learning our ways?" The Keeper raised his eyebrows. "Perhaps there is hope for us."

"I have a good teacher." Aron glanced at Meliri. "And a good friend."

Meliri blushed and smiled. The Keeper was called away by some Dalish and left them alone.

Aron noticed that Meliri was still blushing. She was looking at him shyly.

For a moment, Aron was tempted to kiss her. But he decided against it. He could see Cerion glowering at him.

He realised how absurd the thought was anyway, the Dalish would probably kick him out.

* * *

The next week continued with the same routine. Aron noticed that she was becoming more trusting towards him. She moved closer to him each day, even holding his hand when they walked around the camp together.

He enjoyed her company, but he didn't want to get her into trouble with the clan.

He knew that his welcome was wearing thin. Thinner than usual. He could walk unaided now. He would be sent away soon.

And now he dreaded that moment.

Meliri was at his side by day and on his mind by night. Her smile and laughter haunted his dreams and lit up his heart.

Perhaps leaving would be better for the both of them, but he knew that he would regret it for the rest of his life.

He was speaking more and more elvish. He even found himself seeking some sort of spiritual guidance, not from the Maker, but from the Creators. He imagined that one day he'd wake up with vallasin on his face.

He could have cared less about the Chantry though. He felt at peace among the Dalish, even if only one of them liked him and another tolerated his presence.

It became more than friendship in the third week.

It was Meliri who suggested the walk at night, to look at the stars. Her father was out hunting, he wouldn't stop them. He'd become more and more sour towards Aron as Meliri got closer to Aron.

They talked as usual, but Aron could almost sense something different about Meliri.

She was uncertain and shy, less talkative for some reason.

"Is something wrong?" He asked her. The concern in his voice was evident.

"Not… not exactly." Meliri paused. "We're friends… aren't we?"

"Of course we are." Aron assured her. "Why wouldn't we be?"

Meliri didn't respond for a moment. "I don't want you to go."

The words stunned him. He knew that they had become close, but not this close.

"I don't want to go either." He admitted. "But I can't stay."

"Please." Her plea was quiet. "Please stay…" she reached out and held his hands in hers. "Please stay with me."

"Meliri," Aron sighed. "I can't stay. You clan doesn't want me to."

"But I do." She breathed. _"Emma lath."_

Aron still couldn't speak much elvish, but he knew what those two words meant.

_My love._

"Meliri…"

"_Ma'arlath," _She reached up and stroked his cheek. "Aron, please stay."

How could he deny her? He knew now that he couldn't leave, not after she had just confessed her love for him.

He put his arms around her and gently kissed her on the lips. Maybe the others would frown upon his presence, but he decided to do whatever he could to stay with them, even become one of them.

Amaranthine was no home for him, not anymore. He belonged with Meliri.

They returned to the aravel, hand in hand. But she didn't leave him that night.

Aron heard her shut the door to his room and lock it behind her. He guessed what she was doing, making sure that the two of them were alone together.

"Meliri,"

She paused, about to reach for the buckles on her armour. "Yes, _ma vhenan_?"

"You don't have to do this." He told her gently. "Not if you don't want to."

"I want to." She sounded quietly certain, shy yet confident. "I'm not afraid to be with you."

Aron considered arguing, but only briefly. He stepped up to her and put his arms around her. "Then I'm not afraid to be with you."

* * *

Aron woke, wondering if he had come out of some sort of dream. But it had been real; Meliri was lying next to him, sleeping quietly with a smile on her face.

It was going to be difficult, to persuade the Dalish that he should stay, harder still to explain how he felt about Meliri.

Meliri opened her eyes and gazed at him adoringly. Aron stroked her hair, content for once in his life.

Eventually, they had to rise and dress. The Dalish would get suspicious if Meliri didn't go out and hunt.

Aron didn't know how long they could spend together; they would have to reveal their relationship at some point.

But in the end, it happened badly.

It happened as Aron walked with Meliri on a cold afternoon, as they talked Cerion strode over to them, with some of his hunters.

"Step away from my daughter." Cerion growled. Two of the hunters drew their blades.

"Father, what are you doing?" Meliri was startled. She instinctively stepped in front of Aron to protect him.

"I've seen the way you two look at each other." Cerion stated, his voice laden with quiet rage. "I don't know what you did to her, but it stops now."

"Cerion…" Aron began.

"I don't want to hear your voice!" Cerion roared. "Your words are lies, your speech is poison."

"Father," Meliri protested. "He's done nothing wrong."

He seized her arm, dragging her away. "You and I will talk and you will tell me everything."

He pulled her into the aravel and closed the door.

Aron was left with the hunters. The message was clear; one move and they would kill him.

It had started to rain. Maybe it was a sign.

Aron had to wait. It was a torturous feeling, knowing that his time with Meliri was going to end.

The door of the aravel opened. Cerion stepped out, his face unreadable.

Meliri's face was streaked with tears.

Wordlessly, Cerion walked up to Aron and stared into his eyes.

And then he struck him. An angry blow to the face.

Meliri shouted something in elven, a protest. Aron could feel his lips and nose bleeding.

"Bind him." Cerion ordered. "Summon the Keeper, and take Meliri back to the aravel."

Aron was tied to an aravel and guarded by two of the hunters. As they waited for the Keeper, Cerion stormed up to him again.

"I know what you did," he snarled. "I let my daughter look after you, after she begged me to let you stay, and you reward her by raping her!"

"I didn't…"

Cerion struck him again. "And you've polluted her mind." He snapped. "She tells me that you love her. I don't know what foul arts you used on her, but it will not last." He slipped his knife out of his sheath. "I should gut you here and now. But your fate is in the Keeper's hands now."

Aron felt a glimmer of hope. The Keeper had supported him; maybe he would listen to what Aron had to say. Maybe, just maybe, he would understand.

The Keeper finally arrived. There was a grave look in his eyes, as if he knew what had transpired.

"Cerion," he called the hunter. "What has happened?"

"Please, Keeper!" Meliri must have escaped the notice of the hunter sent to guard her. "My Father doesn't understand!"

"You don't understand, Meliri." Cerion stated. "Keeper, this human has befouled her mind and body. He repaid her kindness by raping her!"

"That's not true!" Meliri cried.

"You see," Cerion hissed. "He tricked her, he used her!"

By now the rest of the clan had gathered that something was wrong. They had emerged to watch the spectacle.

"Enough," the Keeper held up his hands for silence. "Aron, you have been accused of a grave crime. What have you to say in your defence?"

"He is a liar!" Cerion bellowed.

"Silence," the Keeper requested. He didn't raise his voice, but Cerion did not argue.

"I have this to say," Aron began. "I did not rape Meliri. We are in love."

"You wouldn't understand love if it fell on your head." Cerion growled.

"I asked for your silence, Cerion." The Keeper reminded him. "We will hear your words soon enough. Continue, Aron."

"I wish to stay with this clan." Aron said. "I will do whatever it takes, I will adopt your ways, worship your gods. I love Meliri with all my heart and would give anything to stay with her."

The Keeper nodded. "Meliri, as the victim, what do you have to say?"

"He speaks the truth, Keeper." Meliri answered. "We are in love. He never took advantage of me."

"Now, Cerion," the Keeper turned to the hunter. "What do you have to say?"

"I will not let this human have my daughter." Cerion snarled. "You've listened to his lies for too long. Now he has polluted my daughter. Have I not served this clan faithfully? Have I not kept you fed and safe from harm? Alas, I was not able to protect my daughter from the weapon that is deceit." He turned to glower at Aron. "Your kind lured my wife to her death, pretending to be wounded. And then they raped her and tortured her. And when they'd had enough they slit her throat. She didn't see it all, but my daughter saw them kill her. Now look at what you have done."

"I am not those men!" Aron argued. "I am sorry for your loss, but this will not bring your wife back and killing me won't help Meliri, it will break her."

"Don't say her name!" Cerion bellowed. "You don't deserve to! You don't deserve to live!" He turned back to the clan. "It may be too late for my daughter, but to save our clan we must destroy this _filth_!"

Aron was dismayed to hear a few shouts of approval from the clan. He glanced at Meliri, who was crying and pleading with the Keeper.

The Keeper held up his hands for silence again. "This is a sad day." He announced. "I do not know who to believe." There was uproar until the Keeper called for silence. "I am afraid that in order to restore peace to this clan you must be punished, Aron. Cerion wants you dead, but Meliri wants you to live. It is my decision to send you away from this clan."

"You're exiling me." Aron's voice was quiet and full of defeat.

"You were never one of us, monster." Cerion hissed.

"No, I'm afraid I wasn't." Aron murmured. "And I lament that."

Cerion cut the ropes around his wrists. "Leave now." He ordered. "No more false words. You will never hurt my daughter again."

"I never hurt her."

"Just leave." Cerion held up the knife. "Before I kill you."

They gave Aron his equipment and enough rations to make it to a settlement.

But death might have been kinder. Now he had to leave Meliri.

He had hoped that they would understand.

"Aron," Meliri was staring up at him with teary eyes.

"Meliri, get away from him." Cerion instructed.

"Are you not satisfied with you have done?" Meliri turned and shouted at him. "If he leaves, I will go with him."

"No, _da'len_." The Keeper told her. "If you truly bear any love for Aron, do not follow him."

"Or I will have to kill him." Cerion growled. "And I would like to."

Meliri turned back to Aron. "Take this." She held out a small silver brooch, in the shape of a tree. "To remember me by."

"I don't need anything to remember you by, I will never forget you." Aron said. "But I can't refuse." He took the brooch. _"Ma serranas."_

"I can't bear this." Meliri whispered. "I don't want to live without you."

"I'll come back." Aron promised. "We will meet again, maybe in happier times." He stroked her cheek. Cerion glared at him, Aron knew that he would die if he kissed her.

He forced himself to step away from her. "Goodbye."

It was the hardest thing he had ever done. He turned and walked away, each step leaden and numb. He tried not to weep, but the tears came anyway.

He knew that Meliri was weeping too. But he didn't turn back. He would never leave if he did and his death would break her heart.

Aron walked into the trees and did not return for two years.

* * *

_Present day_

"Your weapons." Cerion stopped them suddenly.

"What about them?" Elissia asked warily.

"Hand them over."

"Do as he says." Aron unstrapped his sword belt and handed it to one of the hunters, along with his knives, bow and arrows. Elissia reluctantly handed the other one her staff and knife.

"Our archers will be watching you." Cerion stated. "If you so much as…"

"I think we can guess." Elissia interrupted. "You'll turn us into pincushions."

Cerion scowled. "Were you not taught manners?"

"You don't deserve my courtesies." Elissia stated. "Not after what you did."

Cerion stepped closer to her. He was about her height and had a cold glare. "I heard him talking to you on the road." He said. "Humans are liars and murderers, torturers and rapists."

"I'm right here." Aron sighed. "And lying is not one of my strengths."

"Shut up!" Cerion snapped at him. "Ignore what he told you, he took my daughter and he raped her, but not before filling her head with his lies."

"Cerion!" Aron was angry now, glaring at the elf with fire in his eyes. "I have thought about Meliri every day and every night. I have longed to see her again. Even a glimpse would make me a happy man." He paused, letting his anger subside. "If she was nothing to me, if I did take her against her will, then why would I risk my life coming back here?" The question went unanswered, so he continued. "I love Meliri. You might not be able to accept that, but it's the _truth_."

Cerion drew his knife and held it under Aron's throat. The man did not flinch.

"I should cut your throat, or rip out your tongue!" Cerion snarled.

"You'll have to go through me!" Elissia growled, summoning flames into her hands.

"Has he tricked you too?"

"He saved my life," Elissia retorted. "I was left to die and he saved me, like Meliri saved him."

"You don't understand," Cerion argued. "He ruined my daughter. She will never be married; no men in the clan want anything to do with her. And she weeps because of what this _thing _did to her. I hope you enjoyed yourself, human."

Aron didn't answer.

"No smart remark?" Cerion asked. "Will you admit your crimes now?"

Aron still didn't respond. Elissia realised that he was staring over Cerion's shoulder.

Elissia would learn the truth soon enough, she would learn who had lied and who had not.

Aron was gazing at an elf with long brown hair and blue eyes. He was gazing at Meliri.

And she had seen him. She was walking slowly towards him, as if she could not believe her eyes.

"Meliri." Aron called to her.

"Aron?" She stared at him, shocked to see him again.

Cerion grimaced. "No," he held out his hand. "You…"

Meliri ignored him and ran straight into Aron's arms.

"_Emma lath!" _Her voice was between delight and surprise. "You came back for me."

"I promised that I would," Aron smiled, "my love."

Cerion tried to step forwards, to separate them.

Elissia stopped him, barring his way with her arm. "He never lied." She said. "Can't you see that he loves your daughter and that she loves him?"

Cerion lowered his eyes. "I thought I had saved her from him." He murmured. "But I can't save her from herself."

"She doesn't need to be saved, Cerion." Elissia told him.

Cerion said nothing in response.

Elissia could see what he was now. A broken man misguided by anger, trying to keep his daughter safe from whatever he deemed to be a threat, even love.

He was a good man, but he had taken his protection too far.

Cerion didn't speak. He turned and walked away.

Meliri was still in Aron's arms, as if there was nothing else in the world.

* * *

_**As usual, reviews would be appreciated. My thanks go to forever-calibrating, kogouma and MB18932 for their support.**_


	5. Monsters

"Ser Clemen is tracking the mage sympathiser from Redcliffe." Emin droned. "He has found signs of Dalish in the area."

"Send a runner to the Knight Commander." Bannis instructed. "And send one to Clemen, tell him to be careful. The Dalish are not to be underestimated."

"As you request, Ser Bannis." Emin left the room. He stepped aside to let a visitor in.

"Verin," Bannis put down his quill. "What can I do for you?"

"A drink would be nice." Verin said.

Bannis stood up and poured drinks for the two of them. "Special occasion?"

"Our habit." Verin answered. "Ser Clemen has requested reinforcements."

"You've been chosen?" Bannis handed him the drink.

"There wasn't much to choose from." Verin drank some of the wine. "My few Templars and the recruits are the only ones not on a mission."

"And Clemen wants you to send them against the Dalish."

"He always was a nutcase." Verin murmured. "Did you hear about his little altercation in the Alienage some years ago?"

"He found four mages."

"A family of them, four of whom were mages." Verin confirmed. "But he killed the one non-mage, pretty much in cold blood."

"I heard that he resisted."

"He did." Verin nodded. "With no sword, he was hardly going to kill anybody."

"He caught four mages, you say?" Bannis frowned.

"Yes."

"But he apparently returned with three." Bannis said. "What happened to one of them?"

"I don't know." Verin shrugged. "Might have died on the way, I guess. Saved us the trouble of making the poor sod tranquil." Verin noticed Bannis' glare. "Sorry, I didn't mean that."

Bannis softened. "You mouth was always quicker than your head." Bannis commented. "Your arms quicker still."

"You know, Bannis my old friend, I really wish you could come with us." Verin murmured. "Remember the old days? Chasing maleficar over half of Fereldan?"

"I remember the one who made you soil your underclothes."

Verin laughed heartily, Bannis did the same. "He was crazy!" Verin chuckled. "If you hadn't stuck a sword in him he would have burned that farm to the ground, with all of us inside it."

"He was my third."

"And my second." Verin recalled. "I'd never seen blood magic in action until then."

"To be honest, I nearly crapped myself too." Bannis admitted. "I suppose I am safer behind a desk."

"Unless you die of boredom." Verin shrugged. "I'd like to stay and chat, recall the old days until we really are old, but Clemen is easy to piss off."

"And he'll make my desk less safe."

"That too." Verin put his empty glass down. "Don't die of boredom. I'll be back soon enough."

"Farewell, Verin." Bannis smiled. "May the Maker watch over you."

"May He watch over us all." Verin said before leaving.

Bannis sat down at his desk again and began to work.

_Maker watch over you, Verin. _He thought. _Because he didn't watch over me._

"_I'm scared, Ser Bannis."_

"_The Maker watches over us all. You have nothing to fear."_

"_I… thank you, Bannis. I won't be afraid."_

Bannis grimaced and began to mentally recite the Chant of Light again. It was the only thing, apart from combat, that shut out the voices.

"Ser Bannis," the tranquil droned. It was the last thing he needed. "I have retrieved more information."

"Thank you, Emin." Bannis remained courteous. "Emin, do you ever think about your old life, as a mage?"

"There is no need to." Emin stated. "I am safe and others are safe. My life has purpose."

_If you can call it life. _Bannis thought. "Do you miss being a mage?"

"Mages are dangerous." Emin said. "I am not. I like this existence. It is logical."

"But you don't feel anything."

"Emotions can be a burden." Emin droned. "I have nothing to fear."

"_The Maker watches over us, I have nothing to fear, the Maker watches over us, I have nothing to fear, the Maker…" _Bannis shut out the memory, reaching for the glass on his desk and draining the last of the wine within.

"You appear to be troubled, Ser Bannis." Emin noticed. But there was no concern in his voice.

"That's one way of putting it." Bannis muttered.

"Perhaps you should rest." Emin suggested. "Sleep is good for the mind."

"Not mine." Bannis sighed. "I know you don't dream, Emin. And if you were me, you would not want to."

Emin didn't know how to respond to that. "A short rest then, maybe that would relieve your stress."

Bannis nodded. "Maybe." He said. "You can go, Emin. Wake me if something happens."

Emin shuffled out of the room. Bannis sighed and held his head in his one good hand, nearly bringing up his damaged arm too.

He had no intention of sleeping; he tended to sleep by accident. His dreams were never pleasant, not anymore, not since he had been forced to carry out a kindness.

And nobody else knew, not even Verin. He had claimed that it had been an accident and they had believed him.

Mercy or murder?

"_The Maker watches over us, I have nothing to fear."_

Bannis looked up at the ceiling, the sky was somewhere above. If Verin had been here now, he would have been shocked to see Bannis weeping.

"Why didn't you watch over her?" Bannis whispered. "Why?"

* * *

"You still remember the words?" Meliri was impressed.

"Everything you taught me." Aron nodded. "And I see that you are still the best archer in Thedas."

Meliri giggled. "Flatterer," she grinned. "I can put an arrow through the eye of a wolf from a tree, but that doesn't make me the best archer in the world."

"I didn't meet any master archers in Kirkwall." Aron glanced at Elissia, who was cleaning the blade of her staff. "You're quiet."

"I thought I'd let you two enjoy your reunion." Elissia lied. In truth, she was deep in thought. She didn't want to break her promise to Aron, but she knew what had to be done.

She had to find Ser Clemen and force him to tell her where her family was, assuming they had escaped the Circle.

She didn't want to get Aron killed. This was her problem, not his.

A sentry shouted something. Meliri jumped up and grabbed her bow.

"What is it?" Elissia asked.

"Intruders." Meliri answered. "Hide somewhere. The Keeper might be able to negotiate."

Aron took Elissia behind one of the aravels. Meliri was ordered to take cover and she chose the same aravel. She put an arrow to her string and waited patiently.

"Damn," Aron breathed. "Templars."

"What are they doing here?" Meliri whispered. "Are they after you?"

"I annoyed some, but I think they want Elissia." Aron answered. "Their armour is weak at the neck, armpits and wrists."

"What about their eyes?"

"The slit's too narrow." Elissia murmured.

"Not for the Dalish." Meliri said. "Still, hopefully the Keeper can turn them away."

Elissia caught sight of a winged greathelm with the sunburst symbol on its front. The Templar was carrying his broad bladed greatsword, the one he was so fond of using.

"Clemen." Elissia hissed.

"You know him?" Meliri asked.

"Unfortunately."

"I had a run in with Ser Arsehole in Redcliffe." Aron added. "He's a man bastard, be ready for a fight."

"Any weaknesses?"

"He will run if his life is in jeopardy." Aron said. "But that sword isn't for show."

They saw the Keeper appear from one of the aravels and listened intently. Elissia could see several Dalish, all armed, outside. Non-combatants were hiding in the aravels.

There some movement nearby and she saw some archers move into position.

Clemen had quite a few Templars, heavily armoured, but no clever positioning.

"This is the first time a mage has willingly revealed himself to me." Clemen remarked.

"I am the Keeper of this clan." The Keeper ignored the joke. "Who are you?"

"Ser Clemen, Knight-Captain, of the Fereldan Templars."

"And what do you want, Ser Clemen?"

"You and any mages here to come with us."

"My First and I are the only mages here." The Keeper stated. "And we will not abandon our clan."

"I suspect that you are harbouring fleeing mages in this… place." Clemen scowled at an aravel.

"My best hunter would know." The Keeper turned to the hunter in question. "Would you not, Cerion?"

Elissia held her breath. Cerion was loyal to his clan and family, but he might consider giving her and Aron to the Templars to keep the clan safe.

"I would." Cerion replied. "And there are none of your mages here. Only fellow Dalish."

The lie surprised Elissia. She made a mental note to thank Cerion.

"Summon the other mage, your First or whatever you call it." Clemen ordered.

"I advise you to leave Templar." The Keeper frowned. "There are a dozen bows aimed at you and your men."

"I'm not afraid of your arrows." Clemen sneered. "The Maker protects His faithful."

"We can put that to the test." Cerion growled. "Your Maker won't protect you here."

Clemen looked from one to the other. "You've made a mistake." He turned around and began to walk away.

Or so it appeared.

His Templars stepped aside. The move revealed the Templar archers behind them.

A volley of arrows whistled into the camp. Several Dalish fell to the ground.

Elissia heard a cry of dismay from Meliri. The Keeper had been shot in the throat.

Clemen turned back, unsheathed his sword and impaled the Keeper with it in one movement.

Meliri loosed her arrow. Her aim was flawless, but a Templar with bad timing got in the way and went down with the arrow poking out of his helm's eye slit.

The Dalish were answering with blades and bows. Both sides were almost evenly matched in numbers, but the Templars had thicker armour and had struck first.

Aron drew his sword. "Meliri, cover me," he ran out from behind the aravel and attacked the nearest Templar.

Elissia gripped her staff and followed him into the carnage, setting one Templar on fire and stabbing another one.

An arrow whistled, disturbingly close, past her ear and embedded itself in a Templar's neck.

Aron had not been joking about Meliri's skill with a bow.

Cerion stabbed his blade through a Templar's hauberk. The man's comrade saw this and charged at the hunter, only to be stabbed in the back by Aron.

Another arrow from Meliri's bow found its mark. A Templar fell to his knees with the head of an arrow poking out of his neck.

Elissia spun her staff round, whacking the blunt end into a Templar helm. The man yelped, his helm ringing, and staggered. Elissia cut his throat with her blade before turning to fling a fireball at a trio of Templars.

She heard a heavy footfall over the carnage and saw the blade rushing towards her.

She blocked it with the shaft of her staff and found herself staring at Ser Clemen's greathelm.

"Look who it is." Clemen sneered. "I thought you had died in the wilderness."

"Better for you if I had!" Elissia snarled, forcing his blade up and swinging her staff.

Clemen parried the strike. "It looks like the Keeper lied to me." He swung round, faster than Elissia had expected, and cut down a Dalish warrior before swinging at Elissia.

Elissia jumped back and tried to stab Clemen. The Templar parried her strike again.

"Tell me where my family is!" Elissia demanded.

"Why?" Clemen inquired. "You abandoned them."

"I'll make you tell me!" Elissia growled.

"Such hate!" Clemen commented. "It won't save you, apostate."

"But I will!" Aron lunged, the red steel blade aimed at Clemen's heart.

Clemen swung his greatsword, forcing Aron to stop and back away. "And the brigand shows his true colours," Clemen chuckled. "You will die with this mage and the Dalish too."

Clemen must have seen Meliri aim at him, because he dodged again and the arrow sailed over his shoulder and hit another Templar in the back.

"Come out, little Dalish!" He called. "Come out and face me."

Meliri didn't take the bait. "May the Dread Wolf take you, murderer!" She loosed another shot.

Elissia suspected that Clemen's reactions were unnaturally fast, because he blocked the arrow with his gauntlet.

But there were three of them against him.

Elissia snarled and spun her staff over her head, giving it momentum, and aiming the blade at his arm.

She wanted to take him alive, but he could live without an arm.

Clemen saw it coming and blocked it. Aron aimed a strike at his leg, but the Templar backhanded him savagely.

Aron reeled, spitting blood from his mouth. Meliri fired her last arrow at a Templar running towards Aron. She drew both the dal'thanu and the dar'misu from her belt and charged into the fray.

"This is hardly a fair fight," Clemen remarked. "For you three."

"Enough talking, Templar!" Aron hissed through bloody lips. "Drop your weapons and answer for your crimes."

"My crimes?" Clemen laughed. "I think that the real guilty party needs punishment."

It was the smell of wood burning that made Elissia glance over her shoulder.

The Templars had paid in blood for their transgressions, but they were determined to make the Dalish pay more.

They had launched burning arrows into the camp. One of the aravels had already caught fire.

Elissia could hear screaming.

"You monster!" Meliri shouted.

"You had better choose carefully." Clemen stated.

He was playing with them.

As much as she hated Clemen and the Templars, Elissia knew that she couldn't leave the innocents to burn.

Clemen was already backing away, taking his remaining Templars with him.

"Find water!" Aron was shouting, he had already forgotten Clemen. "Put these fires out now!"

Elissia swore and turned her back on the man she wanted to kill.

There wasn't much water in the camp. Elissia grabbed a barrel of drinking water and hurried towards the nearest aravel.

_He's next! _She thought angrily. _When we fight again, I'll burn him!_

* * *

Clemen retreated out of range of any arrows before calmly making camp and sitting down to clean his sword as if nothing had happened.

Some of the Templars kept glancing in the direction of the Dalish camp, then glanced at Clemen.

They could smell the smoke and could hear the screams.

"It is the Maker's will." Clemen didn't look up from his sword. "And the heathens must be punished, not only for denying the Maker, but for harbouring apostates and maleficar."

The Templars didn't say anything. They didn't dare to.

Clemen continued to clean his sword. He seemed to be savouring the distant cries of pain and anguish as if they were music to his ears.

* * *

Bannis was also cleaning his sword, but not because he had used it. It was difficult with one hand, but he still managed to make the blade gleam.

He had called it Duty. His duty was to sit at a desk all day now, but the sword had always been at his side even when friends had not.

So he did his duty to Duty, by cleaning it and maintaining it.

Perhaps he had got this wrong. Maybe he had a good excuse to leave the Templars now. He considered going to Denerim, maybe he could find a woman who didn't mind an ex-Templar with a missing hand. Bannis was still young, in his early thirties, perhaps he would become a father.

Maybe the time had come to find another duty and to mount his sword over a mantelpiece.

The thoughts were dissipated by Emin knocking on the door.

"Come in." Bannis sheathed Duty and leaned it against the desk.

Emin entered, carrying papers, as usual. "Ser Clemen has sent a messenger."

"Is there anything of interest?"

"He attacked the Dalish and incurred losses. He set their camp alight and withdrew to a safe position." Emin droned. "He encountered an apostate and a mage sympathiser among the Dalish."

Bannis' stomach churned. "Did you say that he set the camp on fire?"

"Yes." Emin confirmed. "He says that it will leave his enemies vulnerable."

"But there will be women and children among them."

"It is in the Maker's hands."

_Then He had better show some bloody mercy!_ Bannis fumed silently. "Anything else?" He forced himself to remain calm.

"Ser Clemen has sent a description of the apostate he faced." Emin stated. "Her name is Elissia Thessil, pale, blonde haired and green eyed."

Bannis felt a jolt in his guts. His instincts told him, and his instincts were often right, that the apostate he had fought was alive. The description all but confirmed it.

"The one who cut off my hand." Bannis murmured numbly. "Elissia Thessil."

"Yes." Emin said. "My sister."

Bannis practically exploded out of his chair. The desk shook as his legs collided with it.

"WHAT?" He shouted involuntarily.

"Elissia Thessil is my elder sister." Emin spoke with his dead tone. "She fled on the way to the Circle Tower and became an apostate."

Now Bannis could see it. Emin had the same colour hair as Elissia and looked similar.

"Why didn't you tell me?" He asked quietly.

"I did not know that she was alive."

"Your sister lives." Bannis leaned on the desk, on his good arm. "This… this changes things. Do you want to see her again?"

"That is not logical."

"She's your sister."

"Elissia is prone to anger and rage." Emin droned. "She would likely misunderstand my existence; she would become angry and would therefore become a threat. She is already an apostate. That makes her an enemy of the Chantry and the Templars."

"Elissia is your _sister_. She is your kin." Bannis insisted. "Don't you feel anything for her?"

"No." Emin stated. "Her chosen path is not sensible. She should turn herself in and accept the mercy of the Templars."

Bannis was fuming, shaking with anger. "Get out."

"Ser Bannis, I do not understand…"

"I said _get out_!" Bannis yelled.

Emin did as he was told. He wasn't even scared, he was just following orders.

_Tranquillity is no mercy. _Bannis thought to himself. _It's a fate worse than death._

"_Are we friends, Bannis?"_

"_We get along."_

"_Why can't more mages and Templars be friends?"_

"_I'm afraid that it is our duty not to befriend mages."_

"_What harm could it do? I would like to think that Templars like you aren't here to imprison mages like me, but to protect us instead."_

"_Then I guess it is my duty to protect you."_

"Maker, give me strength." Bannis whispered. "How can this be happening?" He let his anger subside. "Emin?"

The tranquil returned quickly. "Yes, Ser Bannis?"

"I'm sorry about what happened."

"There is no need to aplogise." Emin said. "I await your orders."

Bannis nodded slowly. "Send a message to Ser Verin. Tell him…" Bannis paused. "Tell him to be wary of Ser Clemen. Tell him to act if he needs to."

"As you order, Ser Bannis." Emin shuffled off to deliver the message to a runner.

Bannis sat down heavily and sighed. "Watch over my friend, Maker. Watch over Verin." He murmured. "For more than my sake."

* * *

The fires were out. But many innocent lives had been lost or ruined.

Elissia was putting the little skill she had in healing to use, trying to treat burns and cuts.

Aron was searching the burned aravels, trying to find survivors or bodies.

He moved some wreckage aside and paused, staring down at something. Elissia could guess from the mortified look on his face that he had found something terrible to behold.

Aron reached down and lifted something up. It was a stuffed toy, handmade, a small wolf.

It was singed and covered in ash. Aron stared at it wordlessly for a few moments.

"Falon'din guide you, _da'len_." He whispered.

Elissia almost choked on a sob. She didn't need to see what he had found. She knew.

Aron stepped down from the aravel, still holding the child's toy.

"Monsters." He murmured. "Monsters. Only monsters would do a thing like this."

"I'm sorry, Aron." Elissia told him.

"You want to find your family?" He asked.

"Yes."

"You want to kill Ser Clemen?"

A pause, then: "Yes."

"Then _we_ will make him pay." Aron vowed. "He is no man, he is a _monster_. And no monster like him should be allowed to live."

"Then the three of us will end his life." Aron and Elissia looked up to see Meliri, her face was streaked with tears and ash, but her eyes were aflame with anger.

"How many have we lost?" Aron asked. Elissia noticed the "we", he really did care for these people.

"Twenty six." Meliri answered quietly. "Seven of them were children. One was new-born, another still in the mother's womb."

Aron held his head in his hands, breathing heavily. "He will pay."

Elissia glanced at the small wolf toy he had left by his side. "Yes." She agreed. "He will."


	6. Misdirection

"We need to move the clan." The Keeper's First glanced back at the carnage which was now her responsibility. "What's left of it."

"This is our fault." Elissia murmured. "Those Templars were after me."

"They would have attacked the camp anyway." Meliri told her. "They wanted the Keeper."

Aron returned from the trees. His face was grave. "They're waiting on the road." He announced. "They're regrouping for another attack. They won't leave any survivors this time."

"Bastards!" Elissia hissed. "We can't hold them off, not again."

"What about a diversion?" Meliri suggested. "We could draw them away from the clan."

"Meliri…" Cerion was about to protest.

"No, Father." She interrupted. "It's the only way. I know this place, I can evade the Templars."

"I'll go with you." Aron offered.

"So will I." Elissia added.

"If we lead them into the forest and thin them out, we might stand a chance." Meliri said. "I hope you can run fast."

* * *

The Templars were hardly being subtle. They were camped in the middle of the path and weren't even trying to stay out of sight.

They had taken losses, but they still had enough Templars to overrun the weakened Dalish.

Ser Clemen was out of sight, the coward was taking his time.

Aron glanced over the bushes and watched the Templars for a few moments before ducking again.

"How are we going to distract them?" Elissia asked. "Attacking would be madness."

"I was thinking of shooting one of them." Meliri said. "We should split up when they come for us, the more we can divide them, the better our chances."

"I still think this is too dangerous." Aron muttered.

"If it costs my life to save my clan, my family, then that's a price I'll willingly pay."

"Meliri..."

"Aron, please." Meliri stopped him. "You know what I have to do."

"I know, Meliri." Aron put his hand on her shoulder. "But I didn't come back just to get you killed."

"Get me killed?"

"I come back to the clan and the Templars nearly destroy it." Aron shrugged. "Luck doesn't follow me."

"Maybe not, but that wasn't your fault." Meliri said. "And I have no intention of dying."

"Hey!" Elissia hissed. "You can get romantic later. And I think they're more likely to chase an apostate who throws fireballs at them."

Meliri was still fingering her bowstring, and was clearly itching to exact a little revenge.

"Fine." She nodded. "But if one of them comes my way, I'll put an arrow through him."

Elissia stood up and aimed her staff at the Templar camp. It seemed a little ironic to set their camp on fire, but in a good way.

She launched the ball of fire. Normally she'd start running at this point, but they needed to see her and chase her.

_I've spent my whole life running away from Templars. _The thought came to her as the fireball hit the camp and erupted into roaring flames. _Now I want them to chase me. Brilliant._

By now the Templars who weren't running around on fire were trying to figure out where the fireball had come from.

Elissia was about to throw another fireball, but one of the Templars pointed in her direction and shouted.

An arrow hit him in the throat. Meliri was about to put another arrow to her string.

"Now we've got to run." Aron reminded them. "I'll meet you in the clearing." He went left, sprinting into the trees. Meliri went right, vanishing into the foliage.

Elissia couldn't really go forwards or backwards. She went right, but not in the same direction as Meliri. She had lost precious seconds deciding which way to go.

But Elissia was light on her feet, a fast runner and not dragged down by several pounds of plate armour.

"Apostate!" The nearest Templar, several feet behind, sounded as if he was already tiring. "Stop in the name of the Templars and the Maker."

He was just wasting his breath.

Elissia aimed her staff in the vague direction of the shout and flung a bolt of fire.

There was a shout, a scream and the sound of something metallic hitting the ground.

"Get the apostate!" She recognised Ser Clemen's voice. "Find her and capture her, kill her if you have to!"

Elissia realised that she wasn't only lost, she had become the primary target and she was going to be outnumbered and surrounded soon.

She stopped, not out of breath of footsore yet, but suddenly aware that there were Templars closing in from all around.

"She went this way." One of them called.

"Go that way!" Another one shouted. "Go!"

Elissia realised that she was trapped.

Something moved ahead, a small shape heading towards a tree.

Elissia almost called out to Meliri, but managed to stop herself. Meliri wasn't trapped; she knew what she was doing.

Meliri reached the trunk of the tree, sprung up to the first branch and vanished into the leaves, reminding Elissia of a squirrel.

_Two can play this game._

Elissia sprinted towards the tree and prepared to jump like Meliri had.

Only the tree suddenly seemed too tall for her. Elissia tried to jump, but missed the branch.

The Templars were getting closer. She couldn't see them, but she could hear them.

"Elissia!" She looked up to see Meliri reaching down. "Grab my hand!"

Could Meliri lift her? Elissia decided to trust her and clasped Meliri's hand.

Meliri grunted, struggling to lift Elissia, but she managed to get her high enough. Elissia grabbed the branch and pulled herself into the leaves.

Meliri gestured at Elissia to follow her and began to climb higher. Elissia climbed after her, not quite as surefooted, until they were hidden within the canopy.

"Thanks for saving my skin." Elissia whispered.

"No problem." Meliri smirked. "I used to do this as a child. My father would spend hours looking for me."

"And the strength?" Elissia glanced at Meliri's arm. "You're stronger than you look."

"Bows aren't as easy to use as you might think."

She had a point. The many years spent training with a bow, which required a strong arm, had made Meliri much stronger than her small frame implied.

They heard the Templars moving below. One of them stopped beneath the tree, leaning against the trunk and panting.

"Where is she?" Elissia's fireball and escape had clearly angered Clemen. He wasn't shouting, he was roaring. "I'll have her head for this!"

"She's gone, Ser." The panting Templar coughed. "She was here."

"Idiot!" Clemen appeared in front of the Templar. "I don't want to know where she _was_, I want to know where she _is _you stupid little shit!"

Elissia was amused to see Clemen in a rage. Normally he was smug and confident.

"Where are the others?" Clemen shouted.

"Which ones?" Another Templar asked warily.

"The elf and the man," Clemen snarled. "Where are they?"

"I… don't know, Ser."

Clemen stared at him for a moment. Then he walked slowly towards him. "What did you say?"

"I don't know where they are, Ser."

"You don't know much, do you?"

"Ser?"

"Go and find them!" Clemen barked. The Templar scurried off without further encouragement.

Clemen turned to glare at the panting Templar. "Stop wheezing." He ordered. "You're a Templar, not a fish out of water."

"Sorry, Ser." The Templar tried to stand up. "It's difficult to run in this armour, Ser."

Clemen glared at him for another moment. He unsheathed his sword and swung it without pausing. He slammed the flat of the blade into the Templar's arm.

"Get moving!" He bellowed.

The Templar willingly complied, clutching his bruised arm. He was going to feel that for days.

Elissia glanced at Meliri. The elf didn't look shaken, but she had an arrow ready to launch.

"Don't." Elissia whispered, putting her hand on Meliri's arm. "It's too risky."

Clemen glanced up.

Elissia and Meliri both froze.

Clemen reached for a knife and flung it up into the branches.

The knife flew up, hit something, and came down with a pigeon impaled on its blade.

Clemen prodded the dead bird with his blade. "Blasted woods." He grumbled. "Full of apostates, wolves and primitive elves. That knife-eared, cowardly bitch set my camp on fire. I am surrounded by idiots and there's not even a decent dinner on offer." He turned and stomped away.

Both elves had sharp ears; they waited until Clemen was no longer audible.

Meliri dropped down from the tree and landed on her feet. Elissia decided to climb down rather than risk a jump.

"Here," Meliri took pity on the city elf and helped her down.

"As an apostate who's lived on village outskirts for ten years," Elissia brushed the leaves and dirt off her hands. "I've never had to climb trees to escape Templars."

"You've never climbed a tree?"

"I lived in Denerim." Elissia said. "Climbing the big tree wasn't allowed."

"Never chased a deer through a thorn bush?"

"No."

"Never jumped into a river?"

"For fish?"

"Just for fun."

"Yes actually." Elissia shrugged. "Where's Aron?"

"Probably hiding like we were." Meliri picked up the dead pigeon. "How nice of that Templar to provide us with lunch."

"Not for me. I'm not eating something touched by that bastard." Elissia murmured. "I'd probably choke on it."

* * *

Elissia found herself depending on the skills of another person again. Aron could track things, but he'd obviously learnt the skill from Meliri.

"He came this way." She said.

"How can you tell that it's him?" Elissia gestured at another footprint. "There are quite a few prints."

"Aron moves faster and isn't as heavy." Meliri explained. "These Templars trample the ground like rampaging bulls."

"Aron was right." Elissia shrugged. "Templars don't tend to be subtle. Even their hunters and archers wear heavy armour."

Meliri stood up. "He went that way." She pointed. "Towards the stream."

Elissia took her word for it and followed the Dalish elf. "So you really love him?"

"I do." Meliri confirmed. "I know he's human, but I love him for _who _he is, not _what _he is."

"Fair enough." Elissia could tell that Meliri was defending herself and Aron. "I was just asking. He's clearly fallen for you."

Meliri smiled. "I know what my Father says," she said. "But he didn't understand. I was happy with Aron." She knelt down to examine another print. "He's close."

She took a few more steps before stopping and listening intently. "Aron."

The bushes rustled and Aron emerged, covered in dirt and with a scratch on his neck.

"How did you know?"

Meliri gestured at her ears. "These aren't for show." She grinned. "I could hear you breathing."

"The Templars after me are long gone." Aron told them. "One of them won't be returning."

Elissia noticed an armoured toecap poking out of some reeds next to the stream. Aron's blade was coated with fresh blood.

"Did we give the clan enough time?" Aron asked.

"More than enough." Meliri answered. "And we annoyed that Ser Clemen."

"Hiding in a bush was worth it then." Aron brushed some of the dirt of his cuirass. "What now?"

Nobody answered for a few seconds. They didn't really know.

Elissia turned away and looked into the distance. "I need to find my family." She murmured. "I guess you want to find the clan."

"Not yet." Meliri said.

"We're with you." Aron added.

"This won't be easy." Elissia warned them. "And it's my burden."

"And I'm not about to abandon a friend." Aron told her. "Ser Clemen wants the three of us dead anyway, we won't be able to rest until he's gone."

"I'm not abandoning you either." Meliri said. "And Clemen needs to pay for what he's done."

Elissia sighed, seeing that she wasn't going to win this argument. "If you insist," she surrendered. "We'd better get moving." She glanced around. "Where are we anyway?"

Meliri chuckled. "Follow me."

* * *

The Templars they met on the way were edgy and tired, and had clearly lost allies.

Verin could see scorch marks on some pieces of armour.

Clemen looked like he had been possessed by a rage demon. He radiated sheer anger.

"Ser Clemen," Verin remained civil. "My Templars and I are at your disposal."

"You're late, Verin." Clemen growled.

"We were delayed." Verin explained. "Had to search a caravan for apostates."

Clemen pulled off his helmet. He was not an ugly man, but neither was he handsome. He had brown eyes and short dark hair. He had a chiselled jaw and pale skin, like had spent too much time with his helmet and armour on. One earlobe was missing. A scar ran underneath the missing flesh.

He was clearly angry.

"You stopped to search a caravan for apostates?" He murmured. "There's a fucking apostate in these woods!" He shouted in Verin's face

Verin did not flinch, but it took effort. "I did my duty, Ser."

"And my camp has been destroyed and my plan to attack the Dalish has been compromised."

No mention of his men. Verin could see that he was missing Templars.

"And what if a maleficar had escaped in the caravan because I had to hurry to your rescue?" Verin challenged. "Would that be any better?"

"Don't push me." Clemen growled. "Make yourself useful and follow me. Get your rabble in line."

"And where are we going?"

"The apostate is known to me."

"Elissia Thessil."

"Who told you that?" Clemen glanced at him. "Bannis?"

Verin said nothing. Bannis and Clemen had never seen eye-to-eye. Clemen was the reason for one of Bannis' many problems.

"Bannis was always useless. He was always too soft." Clemen stated. "That's why Thessil has incinerated my camp and seven Templars. She has friends now, a mercenary and a Dalish." Clemen put his greathelm on again. "But I know what's looking for."

"So where are we going, Clemen?"

"We're going to intercept her." Clemen answered. "We are going to find something she values."

* * *

"The nearest settlement is Redcliffe." Aron said. "The Bann owes me a favour, and I have some gold we can use to buy supplies."

"I've never been in a human settlement before." Meliri sounded a little nervous.

"It's not a bad place." Aron told her. "It's relatively peaceful compared to Denerim and Amaranthine."

"Compared to Denerim, it certainly is." Elissia agreed. "But nowhere is safe these days."

Meliri sniffed. Elissia noticed tears in her eyes.

Aron put his arm around her shoulders. "What's wrong?"

"I didn't say goodbye." Meliri murmured. "To my Father and the clan."

"We'll see them again, Meliri." Aron promised. "One day after we've found Elissia's family and dealt with Ser Clemen. We'll see them again."

Meliri nodded slowly and wiped away her tears. _"Ma serranas, emma lath."_

"I'll give you two a few minutes." Elissia said.

"No, I'll be fine." Meliri smiled. "At least I have Aron again."

"And I have you." Aron agreed.

"I did say that you can get romantic again." Elissia shrugged. "Remember to get yourselves a room if we stop anywhere."

"Elissia, are you implying something?" Aron raised his eyebrows. Meliri was blushing.

"You two have a lot of catching up to do." Elissia smirked. "I'm not stupid."

"So what's Redcliffe like?" Meliri changed the subject.

"Well…" Aron considered. "It's scenic, kind of pretty depending on what the weather's like."

"Is it red?"

"The cliffs are."

"Are there any of those round baked things there?" Meliri asked. "I can't recall the name, but I've seen one before, when I saw a caravan. Apparently they're nice to eat."

"Do you mean cake?" Elissia inquired.

"Yes!" Meliri grinned. "That's what I mean."

"Yes," Aron smiled. "I'm sure they have cake."

* * *

Bannis put the quill down and checked his letter.

It was really just preparation for the inevitable.

It was a letter of resignation.

He knew he'd have the shivers and odd symptom of lyrium addiction, but maybe leaving and finding a quiet life would be better than being stuck behind a desk all day.

The Templars would just have to do without him. He was confident that they could manage.

He put the letter away just as Emin entered with a report.

"Any news?" Bannis was getting used to Emin, although the tranquil still unsettled him.

"There has been an incident." Emin announced with his dull tone. "Ser Clemen's forces were attacked by the apostate Elissia Thessil, a mercenary and a Dalish archer. Ser Clemen's forces regrouped when their attackers hid and marched on the Dalish camp, only to find it deserted."

"The three of them distracted Clemen." Bannis murmured. "Smart and brave."

"You approve, Ser Bannis?"

"No, not exactly." Bannis lied. "I respect them. Respecting your enemies is wiser than underestimating them."

"That is logical, Ser Bannis." Emin agreed. "Do you have tasks for me?"

Bannis considered the letter. He decided to keep it to himself for now, until Verin was safe. He owed his friend a lot.

"Not right now, Emin." Bannis said. "I'll call you if I need you."

Emin nodded and left the room. Bannis realised that he had not mentioned Elissia, his sister, even once.

He had not asked if she was alive, if she was in trouble or anything like that. The answers were obvious, but even so, to not ask made Emin seem uncaring and cold.

Bannis shook his head and poured himself a drink. The next few days would be very long indeed, but for the sake of his friend and the innocents caught between Templars and mages, he would persevere.


	7. New directions

_**Sorry about the long absence, I've been busy with college work. Don't expect frequent updates, I'll do what I can.**_

* * *

"I ought to warn the two of you," Aron said. "I can walk around mostly unnoticed, but a Dalish elf and an elf with a staff are going to attract attention."

"What's wrong with a staff?" Meliri asked.

"It's an easy way to say: _I'm a mage, scream for Templars_." Elissia explained. "There's a war between mages and Templars now."

"Do they hate Dalish too?"

"No," Aron answered. "But they'll be wary of you. Elissia, can you hide your staff?"

Elissia removed her cloak from her pack and wrapped it around her staff. "Unless you have a better idea, this is all I can do."

Meliri stopped and turned to examined Redcliffe, eyes roving over the buildings and scenery.

"It looks a little sad." She commented. "But pretty too."

"What supplies will we need?" Aron asked.

"Why are you asking me?" Elissia shrugged.

"You've survived in the wilds." Aron said. "I'm a mercenary."

"Just basic food and such," Elissia answered. They were walking into the village when they met the freelancers.

At least three of them were drunk when they saw the two elves.

"What's this?" One of them sneered. "Some lordling with elven whores?"

"Do I look like a lordling?" Aron frowned.

"Do we look like whores?" Elissia scowled.

"What does that mean?" Meliri inquired.

"Great choice." Another freelancer muttered. "One's hostile and the other's stupid."

"Back off." Aron warned them with a glower. "Our weapons aren't for show."

"Neither are ours."

"And do you really want to die over a mistake?" Elissia challenged, reaching for her knife instead of her staff. "We're sell-swords, not prostitutes."

"I'd back off if I were you." A new voice spoke. It had had a commanding edge to it. "They look seasoned to me."

It was a dwarf, oddly enough. Elissia had only seen one dwarven trader during her travels. This one was unmistakably a warrior, wearing heavy dwarven armour and carrying a bulky shield and a finely made broadsword. He had a short braided beard and a couple of scars the right side of his face.

"Piss off, shorty." One of the freelancers spat.

"Ouch," the dwarf muttered. "I think you wounded me."

"I'll kill you if you don't back off."

"I think these men are drunk." Elissia murmured.

"Perhaps we've started in a bad way?" Aron put on a jovial smile. "How about some drinks?"

The leader of the freelancers considered. "A drink?" He shrugged. "You're not so bad then."

"Do we have to?" Elissia whispered.

"Just enough to put them on the floor." Aron whispered back.

"Leave that to me." The dwarf told them. "I'll get them a round."

The freelancers followed the armoured dwarf off to the inn. Aron wasn't sorry to see the back of the freelancers.

"I'll buy some supplies." Aron announced. "Can one of you check the Chanter's board?"

"What for?" Elissia raised her eyebrows. "I thought we were looking for my family, and Ser Clemen."

Aron shrugged. "Old habits die hard."

"Can you get cake?" Meliri inquired. "Oh, and I need some traps too, and arrows, and a whetstone."

Aron smiled at her. "Fine." He accepted. "But you'll have to help me carry them."

* * *

Bannis was not at his desk. He was outside the inn; he had been craving fresh air for hours.

In the end he had decided to get out, it wasn't like they could shout at him for abandoning his post. He thought they ought to be grateful that he had remained with the order.

The day was calm and warm. He was content to just stand in the sun.

_I could leave right now. _He thought to himself. _They wouldn't stop me._

"Ser Bannis?"

_Then again… _Bannis turned to see Emin the tranquil standing in the doorway of the inn. He was still trying to grasp the fact that he was Elissia's brother.

"Yes, Emin?"

"Ser Verin had joined Ser Clemen in his search for the apostate." Emin droned. "Ser Clemen has also sent descriptions of the mage sympathisers to Denerim."

"Anything I should know?"

"One of them appears to be a mercenary."

Bannis shrugged. "Maybe Clemen can buy his services." _He's certainly good at his job._

"That is unlikely." Emin stated. "He appears to be loyal to the apostate."

"He's got to be involved for something." Bannis said. "Let me know when they identify him, I need to know who this man is. And bring me everything we have on Elissia."

Emin nodded and shuffled off to carry out his orders.

_And I was having such a pleasant morning._

* * *

"It's nice." Meliri grinned. "Shame we can't carry more on the trip."

"The Dalish don't make cakes?" Elissia was trying to figure out how to use a spring trap, and had cut herself more than once.

"Not like these." Meliri saw Elissia fumbling with the trap. "I'll show you how it works later."

Aron walked up to them, carrying a bag of supplies. "There was something on the board."

"Aron…" Elissia frowned.

"Something _relevant_," Aron interrupted. "There's an assignment to capture some apostates seen on the road to Orzammar."

"I thought we were trying to help them?" Meliri said.

"We are." Aron stated. "I never said we were going to capture them. If we can reach them first, maybe they can help us. Maybe they know where Clemen is."

"What about the Circle Tower?" Meliri suggested

"Clemen won't stop looking for us." Elissia told Meliri. "He only stopped hunting me because he thought I was dead."

"You look very alive to me."

They all turned sharply, Aron reached for his sword.

"No need for that." The armoured dwarf assured him. "I'm not here for a fight. Not yet, anyway."

"And you are?" Elissia frowned.

"Sorry, all this time on the surface makes me forget my manners." The dwarf bowed. "Kalbrin, formerly of House Kandrol and formerly a noble. Formerly warrior caste too."

"You were a lot of things." Meliri noticed. "What are you now?"

"A mercenary, I guess." Kalbrin shrugged, his armour clanked. "I gather that you need some help."

Aron, Elissia and Meliri all exchanged glances, each unsure of what to do with the dwarf.

"We're fine." Aron said.

"Actually we're in danger a lot of the time." Meliri pointed out.

"It's complicated, Kalbrin." Elissia sighed. "I doubt you want to travel with us."

"Because you're a mage?" Kalbrin inquired.

"How did you know?" Any chances of escaping with a lie were dashed by Meliri's curiosity.

"Some Templars were asking about an elf like you," he pointed at Elissia. "Good warriors, lousy artists. Their sketch didn't do you any justice."

Elissia grimaced and shook her head. Now the Templars would be scouring Fereldan for her.

Aron sighed. "How much do you want?"

"Sorry?" Kalbrin raised his bushy eyebrows.

"How much do you want to keep quiet?"

"You misunderstand me, my tall friend." Kalbrin said. "From one sell-sword to another, I've personally had a bellyful of ale and gold. I want adventure."

"You must be pretty desperate to want to follow us."

"I know what you're thinking; dwarves known nothing about mages and don't have any, why should I care?" Kalbrin said. "But since I've been on the surface, I've started to feel some sympathy for your kind." He nodded at Elissia. "You're almost like the casteless in Orzammar. You're oppressed for what you are."

They exchanged doubtful looks again. For all they knew, this was a trick.

"And what can you offer us?" Elissia asked.

"My sword and shield." Kalbrin answered. "I'm still a warrior. What we dwarves lack in size, we make up for in determination, and heavy plate."

Elissia bit her lip and considered. "Kalbrin, could you leave us for a moment?"

"I'll be down there." Kalbrin pointed at the windmill before walking away.

They waited until he was out of earshot before talking again.

"I don't like this." Aron declared. "This could be a trick."

"Or he could be truthful." Meliri said. "Maybe he really does want to help us."

"He could be helpful." Elissia surmised. "But we barely know him."

"What irks me is the fact that he was _formerly _warrior caste and everything else." Aron said. "That implies that he was banished from Orzammar. He could be a murdering lunatic for all we know."

"He doesn't seem like the type." Elissia murmured. She glanced over her shoulder. Kalbrin was leaning against the windmill's door, looking at Redcliffe Castle in the distance.

"Looks can be deceiving." Aron persisted. "The fewer of us are involved in this… quest, the less chance we have of being stabbed in the back."

"How about a compromise, Aron?" Elissia suggested. "We take him with us, find these mages you spoke of, and see what he does. If he betrays us, we'll deal with him. But if he proves to be loyal, then we might as well accept his help."

"We could do with a veteran warrior." Meliri agreed. "I mean… you're a good fighter, Aron, and you're a good mage, Elissia, and I can fight, but we're still outnumbered."

Aron sighed again and shrugged. "Do what you will." He relented. "I just hope this doesn't get us killed."

Elissia made her way down the path. Kalbrin turned as he heard her approach.

"You know, for a human structure, that's fine stonework." He announced. "But they could learn a thing or seven from us dwarves."

"We've decided to accept your offer." Elissia told him.

"Excellent." Kalbrin smiled. "I'd like a change of pace. When do we set off? And where to?"

"We're leaving immediately."

"No time like the present."

"And as for our destination," Elissia considered telling him the truth, but decided to settle with half of it instead. "We're heading north. And you're going to need your sword."

* * *

Verin was sharpening his sword when he heard the news.

They had been travelling relentlessly. Verin was convinced that they had left some Templars behind. They seemed to be heading east, towards Gwaren.

What Clemen wanted with Gwaren was a mystery to Verin, the man was being enigmatic.

Luckily, one of Verin's Templars was on watch when the messenger came.

Verin heard the hooves of the horse, but assumed that it was a travelling minstrel or knight.

"Ser?" The Templar held out a roll of paper.

Verin took it from him and nodded his thanks before opening it.

It was from Bannis, Verin read it in silence.

_Verin, I have news from Denerim. The mage Clemen wants to apprehend is called Elissia Thessil, the mage who escaped from him. Believe it or not, the tranquil they sent to work for me is her brother. They've also identified the sell-sword, his name is Aron Vanderford. He supposedly supported the mages during the rebellion in Kirkwall. _

_I advise caution, my friend. Do not trust Clemen, watch him carefully and trust only your own._

_Bannis._

Verin read the letter twice more and memorised it before subtly adding the paper to the fire.

"Harl, Merson." He called his two best Templars over. "I need you two to trust me."

"We do, Ser." Merson said. "With our lives."

"Keep an eye on Ser Clemen. But do it quietly." Verin instructed. "If we run into trouble, I'll need you both at my side."

"As you wish." Merson nodded.

"What are we watching for?" Harl asked.

"Anything suspicious." Verin answered. "No word is to spread beyond the three of us, is that understood?" They both nodded. "Good. And keep your weapons sharp."

The two Templars heeded his word and went back to their duties.

Verin listened to the talking around him, unable to sleep due to the cold and his own doubts.

He heard Clemen before he saw him. The veteran Templar stood over him, covering him with his shadow.

"Ser Clemen," Verin remained polite. "What can I do for you?"

"I heard hooves." Clemen stated.

"A travelling minstrel, Ser."

"Or a messenger from Ser Bannis?"

Verin was thankful for his heavy armour then, Clemen didn't see him tense.

Clemen sat down next to him. "What you and Bannis discuss is no business of mine." Clemen grunted. "Unless it has something to do with the apostate we are tracking."

"We seem to be heading in the wrong direction, Ser Clemen." Verin observed.

"Thessil is clever, more so than she appears." Clemen explained. "We won't find her, but we can make her find us."

"She won't take us on." Verin disagreed. "Even a mage cannot stand against so many Templars."

"She will." Clemen half smiled. "I will give her plenty of reason to." He glanced at Verin. "Why do you listen to that craven?"

"Craven?" Verin frowned. _That applies to you. _"Who do you mean?"

"Bannis." Clemen shook his head. "You knew who I meant. Who else would it be?"

_You perhaps? _Verin held his tongue and chose his words carefully. "Bannis is no coward."

"He's soft." Clemen argued. "Do you know why he left Thessil to die?" The question went unanswered. "Because he couldn't face another mercy killing."

"Another?" Verin blurted.

"I know his little secret, Verin." Clemen said. "I know what he did."

"I don't know what you're talking about." Verin muttered. "Bannis has done nothing wrong."

"Don't pretend to be ignorant, Verin. You're his closest friend." Clemen sneered. "Ask yourself why he would defy the will of the Maker. You will see that he is not as devout as he pretends to be." Clemen stood up and left Verin with those words.

_Bannis' faith has been shaken, yes. _Verin thought to himself. _Maybe he did defy the Maker, but at least he didn't shame Him._


End file.
